Silver Blue
by Graymalkyn
Summary: Irina Hawke is Carver's younger sister. Her fear of magic is almost as strong as Fenris's hatred of it. Their differences are just an illusion, but their loneliness is real. Whether the obstacles to overcome are real or imaginary is something that they have to discover on their own... Though perhaps "together" is the key. 20-chapter story. Updates on Tuesdays.
1. Chapter 1 - Message

"You could do it yourself, you know," the dwarf muttered as he finished getting dressed. "You seem to be strong enough, and that huge blade," he added, pointing to Fenris's broadsword, "would probably make them think twice before messing with you. I know it made _me_ think twice…"

"I'd rather not make my presence felt until it's the right time," the elf replied, peeking into the street from behind the curtain. "Are you sure that they'll be there?"

"No, not really. This Meeran guy said that the one who was bound to take the job was a reliable guy, one of the Fereldan refugees living in this… _lovely_ part of the city," Anso said with contempt.

Fenris smirked. "I'd never have thought that a dwarf would dislike this part of Kirkwall. The buildings are tall enough to make you feel like you're underground."

"Yes, but that bloody sky's always up there," the dwarf shuddered. "I still think I'm going to fall into it one of these days."

"If I were you, I'd be more wary of it falling on top of us, not the other way about," Fenris said seriously. His quip caused the effect he had aimed at: the dwarf's lyrium-blue eyes opened wide, and he muttered something like _'Paragons protect us'. _"Right now you should have other concerns, Anso. Let's hope that these mercenaries don't slit your throat when they realize that this is simple subterfuge."

The dwarf swallowed hard. "Y-You'll be around, won't you? Just… Just in case?"

Fenris looked out of the window again. "I'll be around, yes."

* * *

"Are you the one who sent this message?"

Anso's startled face made the woman giggle. He looked at her. Exotic and appealing for a human. All the curves in the right place, and the barely-covered dark skin kissed by the sun… Perhaps being on the surface wasn't going to be so bad, if he could feast his eyes on women like her.

The unamused face of an impossibly tall human blocked the dwarf's view. "I asked a question, little man," the young man said in a low voice.

"I sure hope you don't call _me_ 'little man' when I'm not around, Big Boy," another voice grunted behind the tall man.

_Another dwarf, thank the Ancestors!_ Anso hurried to explain. "Yes! Well, no… You see, I talked to this man Meeran and he promised to find me some suitable people for the job, so _he _sent the message, I suppose?" He looked at the group in front of him. They seemed capable enough. The tall man's arms were impressive; muscular and lean, the human looked like the leader.

"Fair enough," the man said, as he extended his hand. "My name's Carver. These are my associates, Varric and Isabela. Should I take somebody else along for this job?"

"The three of you will do," Anso replied, his eyes darting from the dwarf to the exotic woman. "It's… You need to recover a shipment from a house in the alienage. It's the house marked with this symbol." He showed them a piece of parchment with a creature that looked like a deer on it.

"Three people to recover a shipment? How heavy is it?" Varric sneered.

"It's not about the weight I'm concerned about," Isabela said, raising an eyebrow. "It's the 'recovery' part. What will we find there?"

_Shit,_ Anso thought. _The bloody elf didn't pay me enough to improvise._ He cleared his throat and ventured, "Possibly a group of smugglers?"

"I thought so," Isabela sighed.

Anso breathed out, relieved to see that he had chosen the right answer. "Will you do it, then? Or should I ask Meeran to find someone else?"

"Oh, we _will _do it, as long as you pay up front," Carver said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Anso managed to suppress a grunt and gave him a sovereign.

"The other one… You'll get it when you return," he said.

* * *

"Wait a minute… This was all a set-up?" Carver's blue eyes looked furious in the moonlight. "Why would you do that?"

"Would you have helped me if _I_ had shown up in that alley, instead of Anso?" Fenris asked.

"I know _I _would have," Isabela purred, sizing Fenris up with her amber eyes. The elf blushed.

"Why not, elf?" Varric said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Anything was better than getting us killed over nothing!"

Fenris let out a deep breath. "I apologize. I haven't met many people I could trust. Anso agreed to be my contact and I thought it was better to let him deal with this. Besides, I doubt many sane people would be willing to help if I mentioned that I'm being hunted by a Tevinter magister."

"A mage?" Carver frowned.

"More than that. Magisters are powerful in ways that mages are not, and they won't hesitate to resort to blood magic if the need arises…" Fenris felt his disgust increase at the mere thought of the ways of his Master. Was he ready to confront Danarius, once and for all? He was so tired of hiding… Even if he got killed… At least it would give him the freedom that he'd yearned for since they'd last met. "Not just a mage, but my… My owner," he grunted as he knelt down next to the body of the man he'd just killed to see if he had any information. He found a note and gave it to Varric, in an almost dismissive way.

"What's this?" the dwarf muttered. "Ooh, Hightown… I know this place. Your master must be a rich man."

"He's certainly got piles of gold smeared with the blood of his slaves," Fenris murmured, thankful that the dwarf hadn't questioned why he hadn't read the note himself.

"We will help," Isabela nodded.

"Hold on." Carver's hesitation was palpable, even before he'd opened his mouth. "What will we find there? This man must have guards. Can we take him on, on our own? Maybe we should talk to Aveline…"

"Awww… Are you afraid of a good challenge, _little man?"_ Varric mocked.

"Expect dirty magical traps. Look, I…" Fenris breathed in. "I'm in no position to offer you some great reward for this, but if we survive, whatever we find in the house can be yours." He looked at the party of three, whose eyes had never parted from him. "Can I… Can I count on you?"

Carver seemed to consider something. After a moment that felt like an eternity to Fenris, he nodded. "We'll meet you there." As soon as he'd said this, the elf dashed up the stairs, away from the alienage and into the night.

"He could have at least said 'thank you'," Varric grumbled.

"If we come out of this alive, I'll let him thank me for this in oh so many ways," Isabela grinned in anticipation, making her two companions groan and roll their eyes. "So, what will it be? Will you ask Manhands to come with us?"

"If Aveline hears you calling her like that, she'll deep-throat you with that sword of hers," Varric observed, checking the number of bolts he had left.

"No, not Aveline," Carver said slowly. "My sister."

* * *

Hiding again. Would that ever end? Sometimes he wondered if other slaves felt the same way he did. The ones he had met had never expressed such desire. But slaves didn't often talk about freedom. Fenris thought they didn't even want to think about it, for fear that their Masters would read their minds.

He watched the house for movement, but it looked quiet, except for a dim light in one of the rooms upstairs. He could smell the trap from where he was, and he knew that if he went in alone, he wouldn't make it to the dimly-lit chamber. Still, he couldn't blame the others if they decided not to help him out…

"There you are," Carver murmured. "I was starting to think that you'd leave us on our own."

As Fenris got closer, he saw a fourth person in the party. "Who's this?" he asked, mistrustfully.

"This is my sister, Irina," Carver introduced her. The young woman looked up at Fenris but she didn't smile or say a word. She was obviously younger than Carver, and standing next to her brother, she looked insignificant.

"She doesn't look like she can handle this," Fenris arched an eyebrow.

Irina looked at her brother uncomfortably. "Carver…" she mumbled.

"It's alright. Irya is more useful than she looks, trust me." He took a look at the manor. "Is that it?" he asked Fenris, who nodded. "Irya? What do you think?"

Irina walked to the manor. Fenris cast a nervous glance at Carver, whose eyes followed his sister's petite body. She stood there for a long minute and when she was ready, she turned to her brother.

"There's nobody there," she said in a calm tone.

"What do you mean?" Fenris growled. "He_ has_ to be there!" His anger made him dash past the little woman and he kicked the door open. "Danarius!" he shouted. "Can you hear me?! I'm coming after you!"

* * *

They were more skilled than he'd thought. The pirate woman was fast and she was not afraid of the Shades that threatened to rip them apart. The dwarf had got him out of trouble with more than one shot of his strange contraption, and the human's physique was a great advantage – his blows were unerring and powerful, and Fenris felt comfortable around him, as if he was back among the Fog Warriors.

The little woman, however… It was a mystery how she could lift that spear of hers. It was a strange weapon; the blunt side was covered with what seemed to be some kind of clay, but the sharp side… He'd seen her protect herself rather effectively against a group of Shades using that pointy end.

But then the Demon had emerged, and she had screamed. Fenris was used to seeing those beings – Danarius always kept him around when he experimented on the weaker mages, trying to merge them with the foul spirits and turn them into abominations that he'd be able to control. This demon looked no different. He took a quick look at her brother, but Carver and Isabela were dealing with another entity, and Varric was keeping some other things at bay. He grunted and lunged forward, but before his sword could go through the monster, it disappeared.

"Where'd it go?" he yelled at a scared Irina, who was shaking from head to toes. Her cowl had fallen off and he saw her terrified eyes looking past him. He turned around just in time to avoid the Demon's grasp, but he fell on his back while doing so. The Demon raised its fiery clutch and Fenris braced himself against the blow, but a sparkle behind him caught his attention.

Irina's left hand was enveloped in a sphere of sparks that tugged at his very core. He felt his markings glow in resonance with her spirit energy, and he saw her imprison the Demon in that light. Soon, her brother and his companions were at it, and Fenris got back on his feet, watching her cast her spell and become more and more potent by the second...

* * *

"She's a witch," Fenris spat. "And you brought her to a place infested with demons. It could have turned out very badly," he scowled at her. She flinched and stood at the back near Isabela. As she put the cowl back on, Fenris saw her blinking away some tears.

"Hey, you watch what you say!" Carver grunted. "This is my sister you're talking about!"

Fenris breathed in and out slowly. "I'm sorry. I do not wish to appear ungrateful, but–" He looked at Irina. "I apologize."

Irina shook her head. "I understand," she just said, and then she turned to her brother. "Can we go home now?" Carver nodded. He'd already taken what he'd found in the mansion and there was nothing else that Fenris could offer him.

"Stay safe," Carver said seriously. He took his sister's hand in his and started to go down the steps towards the Chantry district, when Fenris's voice called after him.

"Wait!" the elf said. He stood there self-consciously; being observed by several pairs of eyes reminded him of the times when he'd been paraded for the bloody magisters. He cleared his throat. "If there's something I can… If you ever need help with this 'mercenary' business… I'm available."

"The man you were after is not here," Varric said. "Why would you stay?"

Fenris looked at them for a while and snorted. All of them were actually waiting for an answer. He sighed discreetly.

"I have nowhere else to go," he admitted.

In the moonlight, he saw the four of them standing together, in unity. He felt a little envious and wondered if he'd ever find a place in a group with others. He'd had it once, and he'd lost it.

"Meet me at the Hanged Man tomorrow, elf," Varric said. "We'll see what we can do."  
Fenris nodded but remained silent.

As the party walked away, Varric grunted, "I didn't hear a 'thank you' either, this time."

"Do you do things so that people thank you, Varric?" Isabela chuckled.

"No, but it's nice to hear that every now and then," the dwarf said, bobbing his head.

"I don't think he's used to saying it," Irina muttered.

"What did you say, dolly?" Isabela asked, looking back at her mousy companion.

But Irina shook her head and remained silent. As she held onto her brother's arm, she looked back one more time, only to see the elf still standing at the top of the stairs, alone in the moonlight.

...

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**A/N:** the title of this story comes from the song "Silver Blue" by Roxette. Every chapter will be named after some words in each of the lines of the song. I think this is actually the first time that I've written some in-game Fenris, and to be honest, I'm doing it mostly to connect with the character.

If you're reading this, thank you for spending some time here!


	2. Chapter 2 - I don't know

_"How do you do it?"  
"Do what, darling?" Bethany raised her amber eyes from the sheets she was embroidering and smiled at her little sister.  
"You and Father. You're never afraid of this… This magic."  
Bethany shrugged. "I don't know, Irya. To me, it's a natural thing, like breathing."  
"It hurts me," Irina said. "Casting a spell… I feel it. It's like bleeding to death."_

* * *

Irina opened her eyes. Her mother was snoring lightly on the lower bunk bed. She wished she could sleep all night long as well. Her dreams always troubled her, reminding her of the life she'd once known, and how lonely it was for her now. Neither her father nor her older sister were there, and Carver and Leandra had no idea how it felt for her.

Her older sister had been so talented… Bethany had been their father's favourite child, the one that had embraced the gift of magic and had never feared it. In her dreams, Irina could still see her, bold and beautiful, her thick black hair –the Hawke trait that she lacked, looking more like an Amell instead– flowing in the breeze that she could summon in those long hot days in Lothering.

They had all been there when Bethany married her beloved farmer, the only man she'd ever know and the one who would be proud of what she was. They'd been happy for a year, until she had got pregnant. Irina had been there when Bethany had died, their father having perished only one month before. An ill-fated delivery had cost her sister her life, and her husband had begged Irina to burn her body and that of the baby's, according to her sister's wishes.

_Can't you do it?_ She'd wanted to say the words badly, but Bethany's husband was in such a state of grief that resistance seemed selfish. He'd wept when he laid her body to rest over a bed of hay, her arms holding the little bundle that was her baby on her chest. He'd covered her with the sheets that her sister had made for their wedding, and he'd waited.

_Can't _you_ do it?_ The words had come up to her lips this time. How she had wanted to scream, to cry; to be the one lying dead there instead of Bethany, her fearless sister. She'd held her breath and raised her hands. She'd felt it coming to her the same way as it always came – needles rushing down her veins, tearing her apart from the inside, digging deeper and deeper into her. The fire had revealed itself, purple and orange, and the flames had licked the bodies, consuming them. Irina's eyes had been shut tight, but she could still feel. She could still smell.

* * *

Seeing the crates with the Aggregio Pavali filled Fenris with rage. For a moment, he stood there and considered shattering every single one of them, pretending that they were all the bloody magisters that he had ever known. If he closed his eyes, their faces would go back to him. He didn't want to remember, and yet…

There was nothing there at the back of his mind. Nothing to go back to; nothing that could lend him strength in a moment of need. The only survival he was fighting for now was his own. He thought of Carver, leading his little sister around. Was she worth all the fighting? She was nothing but a witch. Carver was talented – no doubt the Templars would take him. Why he was still squatting in Lowtown was something that Fenris could not comprehend.

He took one of the bottles, holding it in his hands as if it was a weapon. He laughed when he remembered all the times that he had thought of smashing one of those on Danarius's head.

_"Not from the bottle, you little beast,"_ he said out loud in a mocking tone. _"Let it breeeathe, Fenris."_ He threw the bottle at the far end of the room, enjoying the sound of the broken glass. He listened. Nobody had come for him. He wouldn't have to kneel down and pick the pieces with his mouth. Not anymore.

The smell of the wine got to him – bittersweet and dense. Images went through his head: the elves working in the kitchen of the mansion; the feeling that they were afraid of him, as if he was one of the mages himself… He didn't know who or what he was. A slave, at that point. Just like them. But at the same time, something else. A pet. A tool. An asset. Danarius's meal. The magister had fed off him, draining him the way that witch had done it that night.

He looked at his markings. He was mages' food. That was his role.

Fenris took another bottle. Still Aggregio Pavali. That accursed wine seemed to follow him wherever he went. Perhaps it was a sign. At least he didn't have to pour it for anybody else any longer.

He opened it and smelled it. _Let it breathe, Fenris._ The words came back to him and he felt his upper lip stiffening in disgust. He took a swig and let it rest in his mouth for a while. When he swallowed, he couldn't help gagging at the burning sensation. The pain was always there, reminding him that he was still alive.

He wondered if the wine would bring back more memories, or if it would help him forget. He didn't know what he wanted. Both. Neither. Everything. Nothing. He wanted to survive, but he also wanted to cease to be. He wanted to confront Danarius, but to do so, he had run away. He laughed bitterly at his existence as he took two more bottles from the crate and trudged up the stairs.

* * *

"We can wait until he comes out," Leandra suggested. They were standing outside the Lowtown tavern, hoping to get a glimpse of Carver. He hadn't returned home the previous night.

Irina looked around surreptitiously. Even in broad daylight, there was a chance that Templars would spot her. "Maybe he's outside the city?" she ventured, but her mother shook her head.

"Nonsense. He'd let us know. He always does. Maybe I should go in," Leandra muttered.

"We could send Gamlen in?"

"I'm sure your uncle's already at that brothel in Hightown at this time of the day."

Irina was about to reply when she caught sight of a lanky figure that was staggering towards the tavern. He was unmistakable. Leaving aside the fact that he was an elf out of the alienage and that his garments were unusual -to say the least-, there was the question of his markings. They looked white in the sunlight, while they were silver in the moonlight, and blue when he…

_Should I say something,_ she wondered. _Will he know who I am?_ She saw him walk past them, barely aware of her presence. "Fenris," she called out timidly.

His eyes turned to her. A sour smell of wine and vomit got to her and she had to make an effort not to gag. "I know you?" he grunted.

"I…" She didn't expect him to remember her much, but apparently he hadn't acknowledged her at all. "I was wondering if you could tell Carver to come out?"

Fenris frowned for a while, but then his eyes focused. "You're the wi… The sister."

"That's me, yes." She was eager to finish the conversation, especially since she felt Leandra disapproving of the company they seemed to keep. "If you are going in, can you tell my brother to come out? Just for a moment?"

He squinted. "Why don't you go in your-yourself?" He hiccuped, and a wave of acrid smell hit her. "There are no Temp-Templars in there…" He pushed the door open and went in.

Irina looked at her mother, who was shaking her head. "Carver's not like that, mother," the young woman said softly.

"I hope not," Leandra sighed. "Your father and I… We taught him better than hanging out with people like this. I really don't want to get involved in your brother's affairs." She took the basket from Irina's hands and started walking back to the house. "Tell him to come soon, or that next time he should let us know that he's alive, at least."

Irina stared at the open door that led to the dark tavern. She'd never dared go in. It was her brother's haven. She closed the door behind her and stepped in the main hall. It wasn't so terrible. There were a couple of barmaids doing the rounds and being ogled by some of the customers, but it didn't feel like the den of iniquity that she'd thought it would be.

"Not bad," a voice said behind her. She turned to see a man looking at her behind. "You new here?" She took a few steps back and hit the table behind her, getting a wave of sniggering from the men sitting at it.

"Wanna drink with us, sweetheart?" they laughed. "We can get a room and–"

"I'm sorry, I… I'm looking for my brother," she said weakly. She looked around and saw Fenris watching her from the bar, a glass on his lips.

"I don't know your brother, but I can show you a little friend you can play with," one of the men sneered and he reached out for her. Irina stepped back just in time to avoid his touch.

"Hey. Leave her alone."

His gravelly voice sent a jolt along her spine. There wasn't a trace of drunkenness in his tone. Irina wondered if he'd just pretended not to recognize her.

"Or else what, elf?" the man said, standing up. He was a few inches taller than Fenris. Both men stared at each other, and Irina became aware of how silent the tavern seemed to have gotten.

"What's going on here?" Varric asked, coming down the stairs. "I come down for a drink and this is tomb-quiet." The dwarf sauntered towards them, munching on a piece of cheese. "Fenris, Irina," he greeted them.

"Friend of yours, Varric?" the tall man asked.

"Eh." Varric shrugged. "More like family. Can't shake them off, it seems." He took Irina by the arm and beckoned Fenris to follow them upstairs. "What are you doing here, Irina? You should have let me know you were coming."

"I was looking for Carver," she mumbled. "He didn't come home last night, and my mother–"

"He didn't?" Suddenly Varric seemed to have woken up. "That's odd; it was supposed to be an easy job. Don't worry: bad news travels fast, so I'm guessing he's still alive. He was going there with Aveline and Isabela, so I'll wager he's got his back covered." He took a look at Irina's face. "Not convinced, princess? Well, let me get Bianca and let's head for Darktown, shall we?" He turned to Fenris and sniffed the air. "You've had one too many again, haven't you."

"I'm not that drunk," the elf grunted. "Why Darktown?"

"Because I sent him to a possible contact there, for the expedition, you know. Speaking of which, are you in or not? Have you made your choice?"

Fenris shrugged. "The money wouldn't be bad. And I have the time, so…"

"Well then… Whatever you can carry. No percentages unless you're a partner."

"It's a deal, then," Fenris nodded. He stretched and yawned. "Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" Varric said, grabbing Bianca and heading out.

"Go to… Darktown?" Fenris asked, confused.

"Oh, you don't need to come. I'm just walking Irina there to see if Carver's around.

"Ah, right." Fenris stood there, looking around awkwardly. "Well, I'll wait for you to return," he said in a low voice. Irina followed Varric downstairs. Carver had always forbidden her to go to Darktown – not that she needed to go, but when they had worked for the Red Iron, he insisted that she stayed behind during jobs that took place there. She stopped walking and looked back hesitantly.

"What is it, princess?" Varric asked.

Irina dashed up the stairs and went back to Varric's room. Fenris was looking at a diary that was lying on the table, which seemed to contain drawings of the group.

"F-Fenris?" she called softly. The elf raised his eyes and waited. "I don't have my… I wasn't ready to… Would you mind…? Coming with us? To… Darktown. Just in case."

Fenris appeared to weigh her up for a brief moment. He stood up and picked up his sword. "Sure," he muttered.

The walk there was not long, but it certainly was a quiet one. Irina made no attempt to start or keep a conversation with her partners, and Fenris seemed to be more concerned about remembering the way back. Varric grumbled, wishing that Carver and Isabela were there.

Darktown wasn't as dark as Fenris and Irina had imagined, but it was certainly more rancid. Whoever had designed that part of the city, at least they had made sure that the sewers were in areas that were not appealing to people.

As they approached their destination, Irina caught sight of the gigantic statues that had seen them arrive over a year before. She leaned against the handrail and breathed in – the first fresh puff of air since they'd come down.

"Kirkwall reeks of wicked history." Fenris's voice took her by surprise. He'd maintained a certain distance all along the way. Irina cast a quick glance at him. His eyes were set on the statues. "The Twins," he muttered. "A statement of the powerful and the oppressed of the 'Free' Marches. I'd heard of their chains, used to block and extort merchants. Only a city like this could make the chains functional. Not even the statues of slaves can get a break."

Irina watched the vessels rolling in and away. "My brother says you were a slave once," she said quietly. "In Tevinter."

"That I was," Fenris nodded.

"He said your master was a magister, and that's why you hate mages."

Fenris was silent for a while. "Magisters delve in blood magic, and they never hesitate to sacrifice their servants in exchange for a bit of power. Should I not hate them?"

Irina lowered her eyes. "I understand your hatred."

"I cannot imagine that. You're a mage. If someone like you sympathized with the oppressed in Tevinter, you'd soon find yourself the fodder of those who sought to maintain their power."

Irina's hands rubbed her naked arms. "It's colder now." She turned to Varric, who had been watching them silently.

"Come. We're close now."

The lantern was lit, signaling that they were allowed to go in. As soon as they opened the door, they saw Isabela sitting next to Carver, whose eyes were closed. Irina ran towards her brother.

"He's fine now. He needs to sleep. He had a rough night," Isabela said gently. "Anders here healed him. He had a run-in with one of those damned mage-hunters – got stabbed in the back. If Anders hadn't been there…"

Irina looked up. There was a dark-blond man watching her. "You must be Irina," he said kindly. "Your brother told me about you. In fact, you're the main reason he helped me out last night." He extended his hand. "I'm Anders."

"Wonderful. Another mage," Fenris scoffed.

Anders raised an eyebrow. "And he recognizes mages. Smarter than most Templars. And you are…?"

"My name is Fenris," the warrior replied.

"Ah. Carver mentioned you. Are you going to the Deep Roads expedition as well?"

"He's just decided to join us," Varric interceded. "Did you find the person you were looking for, Blondie?"

The mage shook his head. "No, we… We were too late." He was evidently upset, and Varric didn't want to pursue the questioning. He knew that Carver or Isabela would tell him all about it later on.

Anders turned to Irina. "Your brother says that you could do with some training, and he's agreed to let me be your mentor, if that's fine with you."

Irina's grey eyes detached from her sleeping brother and landed on the mage. "I don't know. So far I've been doing well."

"He says you've been avoiding your magic like the plague," Anders smiled in a friendly way.

"I don't think I need it, to be honest," Irina shrugged nervously. Anders sat down in front of her and watched her intently. His amber eyes tried to read her, and she grew visibly uncomfortable with every second that went by.

"You know that he'll be gone for some time. It's necessary for you to at least learn to protect yourself effectively."

"She said no," Fenris grunted. "Don't push her." He didn't know what had led him to speak in such a manner, but it was obvious that something had rubbed him off the wrong way. Or perhaps it had been the night of drinking and the subsequent morning. The hangover had started setting in, and he felt as if his head had been kicked a thousand times.

Irina looked at him and then back at Anders. She seemed to be struggling with something. Her eyes gazed at her brother and she stroked his cheek. Carver barely moved. She looked back at Fenris and for the first time, she smiled. It was a simple smile, the kind that wasn't meant to convey mirth, but to show that she had listened.

"It will be fine," she told Fenris.

He found himself wanting to believe her.

...

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**A/N: **Thanks for the great feedback you gave me! I really hope I can deliver. Someone asked about the ages via PM. Basically, the ages are reversed. Carver is 26 years old, and Irina is 19. Bethany died when she was 24.


	3. Chapter 3 - Arms

Carver recovered quickly. Back in the Royal Army, he'd been hit worse, but he'd also been more careful. Having escaped from Ostagar unscathed had made him overconfident, which was why Aveline had challenged his petition to become a city guard once they had settled down in Kirkwall.

"I would only do it so that your family stopped worrying about you," she'd told him. "But I know you. Even in the army you found trouble more often than not. A troublemaker as a city guard could get court-martialled. I'd rather take my chances and trust you'll survive in the streets. Your family deserves to be spared the shame of dishonour. Do what you must, and I'll look away, for the moment." Had he been younger and brasher, Carver would have resented her. But after Malcolm's death, he'd had to be the head of the family, and that had made him reconsider his priorities. Having met Varric had also been beneficial to him. Even Aveline approved of the dwarf and considered him to be a good influence, though she'd never admit it openly.

They'd had a full life as a family in Kirkwall, but the memories did not hold him back. At the moment, Leandra and Irina were all that mattered to him. After the first awkward stage of living with Gamlen, Carver had worried that they'd have a hard time sitting in that house all day long. But mother and daughter had started darning clothes for a living, and Irina occasionally sold colourful quilts made from snippets of fabric that he found for her around the city. They had become rather popular with the people of Lowtown – they cheered up the gloomy hovels they usually lived in.

As he opened his eyes that morning, he found his sister looking at an item of clothing rather intently. He rested on one arm and rubbed his eyes. "What caught your attention?" he said, yawning.

Irina was startled. "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" She walked over and kissed her brother on the forehead. "Gamlen brought some cheese and Mother baked an apple pie. There's some ale, I think. I'll go and ready it for when you get up."

When she'd left the room, Carver sat up and stretched. As he looked for his shirt, he caught sight of the garments that Irina had been gazing at. A lavender-coloured silk robe, rich and luxurious, with naked shoulders and some kind of golden embroidery around the edges. The front seemed to have been torn. Undoubtedly, it was one of the many things that she had to mend.

"Nice clothes," Carver murmured as he sat at the table, where his breakfast had been laid.

"Oh… Yes, I suppose so," Irina said, blushing.

"What's with the apple cheeks?" her brother teased her. "Do you like it?"

"I do, a little… But Uncle brought it over to be fixed."

"Gamlen? What would he be doing with–?" Carver stopped talking and left his knife on the plate. "Where did he get it?"

"At the Blooming Rose." Irina's face was flushed, and her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her apron. "Don't get mad; we… sometimes get work from them. He brings it our way. We don't mind, really. It gives us something to do." She managed to smile.

Carver laughed. "Gamlen's a dog. But I suppose that as long as they come clean…"

"Maker yes, they do! And they're quite fetching, aren't they?"

Carver looked at his sister. There was a longing look in her silver eyes that he knew quite well. It had always been that way – the girl who wanted things but never said anything about it. "When I come back from the Deep Roads," he said, "I'll bring you a much better robe, just for you. No more hand-me-downs, Irya. I promise."

Irina smiled and shook her head. "All I want is to have you back as soon as possible."

"I'm a little hesitant to leave you alone here, to be honest," Carver said, resuming his meal. "Asking you to stay home until I return is not an option, is it? I really don't know how long we'll be down there. Isabela and Aveline have promised me they'd come to check on you as often as they could, but still…"

"I'll be fine," she reassured him.

"When are you starting your lessons with Anders?"

Irina rubbed her arms the way she always did when she felt uncertain. "We were waiting for you to get better. I didn't want to bother Varric by asking him to take me there…"

"You could have talked to Fenris," her brother pointed out.

She shook her head. "I don't think Fenris would be very interested in sitting in on my training sessions. I think it would drain him." When she noticed her brother's eyes on her, she hurried to explain. "His powers, I mean. He might… resonate, like he did with me that night. Besides, I wouldn't want to feed on him. The lyrium. Not _him._ You understood, didn't you?"

Carver laughed, much to her embarrassment.

* * *

"So tell me, elf…" Varric started, resting his feet on the table. "How can we turn that talent of yours into something useful?"

"My… talent?" Fenris sounded genuinely confused.

"That glow you seem to have sometimes… Well, I only saw it the first day. You know, when little Irina saved your ass from that demon?" He popped a grape into his mouth and smiled.

"That's the lyrium I told you about."

"All from the tats, right? Impressive."

"To you, perhaps. But I don't think you'd say the same if I stripped your skin off your flesh."

Varric shuddered. "Feels that bad, huh?"

"That bad indeed," Fenris nodded. "Why did you want to know?"

"Well, I noticed that little Irina displayed an interesting amount of power with you there. Before that day, she'd only cast the occasional bolt. And I was wondering if you two would be interested in working together, you know? We could get bigger clients and everything…"

"You want me to be her lyrium source?" Fenris grunted.

"When you put it that way, it makes me feel like a slaver." Varric scratched his head. "I mean, I can't ask Anders to come with us in broad daylight."

"Because he's an apostate," Fenris sentenced.

"If it was just that, I wouldn't mind. Irina is one as well, and so far I haven't had any trouble with apostates – or with templars, for that matter. I'd kinda like to keep it that way. But the problem with Blondie's a _little_ more serious than that." He reached out and grabbed his ale, nursing it in silence. Fenris raised his eyebrows and waited. Varric glanced at him and then he glanced away, looking like a guilty dog.

_"Varric…"_ the elf muttered.

"What? I'm no gossip…" He drummed his fingers on the sides of the tankard. "Okay, I'll tell you, but if anybody asks, I'll tell them you threatened me with that lyrium fist of yours." He lowered his feet and moved his chair closer to Fenris's. "Isabela told me that when they found that friend of his, the mage that they were supposed to take away from the Circle, he'd been made Tranquil. Blondie totally lost it… Rivaini says that he started glowing blue, pretty much like you, and that he got rid of four hunters by himself. Can you believe it? And he's supposed to be a healer… Anyway, she asked him about it… Turns out the guy is hosting-"

"A _demon?"_ Fenris asked, trying to hold back his disgust.

"Even better: a spirit of Justice," Varric murmured.

Fenris snorted. "Now I know why there wasn't such a thing in Tevinter. The mage was hoarding it here." He noticed that Varric wasn't smiling. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. You can always ask him yourself. Sounds like an interesting fellow... He was in Ferelden until recently. One of them Wardens, y'know…"

"A _Grey _Warden?" Fenris blinked. Varric nodded.

"I bet he's got some juicy stories to share," Varric said, rubbing his hands together. "And he's already given us to maps with the entry points to the Deep Roads. So… I'm really hoping you won't mind hanging around with a spirit. Kinda."

"An abomination, you mean," Fenris said adamantly. "Though there might be some merit to him, if the Wardens accepted him."

"Aw, come on… He's not that bad. He's rather generous, considering–"

"–that he'll train Irina?" Fenris finished the sentence. He bit his lower lip. "I doubt Carver knows about this. I don't think he'd send her to a monster." He stood up and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Should we warn him?"

"Calm down, will you? You're supposed to act cool, you know? Like you don't know any of this. Remember: you didn't hear it from me. I told you; it's already hard for Anders to be hanging out with us in public. If you go around crying _'Abomination!' _well… Who knows what could happen to him? At least he's doing something good for all those poor refugees, healing them without charging them a copper…"

* * *

"Fear not, messere. You're leaving her in good hands," Anders smiled.

"It's not the hands that I'm concerned," Carver said seriously. "If you lay one on her, I'll cut it off–"

"Carver!" Irina said, embarrassed.

"As a man, I mean. As a healer, you're more than welcome to treat her," he finished. He was standing behind his sister, holding her from behind. His arms were warm and protective, and Irina had always felt that nothing bad could happen to her as long as he was there. But that was the reason why he'd wanted her to train with Anders.

_"I could be away for a long time, Irya. And even if I wasn't going on this expedition… The kind of life I lead… You might not have me around forever."  
__She had shaken her head and embraced him, but she had remained silent.  
__"What if...?" Carver had hesitated. "Would it be too crazy if you were to come with me? If Anders taught you the spells you need for that kind of place?"__  
_

"I haven't told her about your thing, though. You might want to start with that," Carver suggested.

Anders's eyes went from Irina to him. "Are you sure?" He saw the young man nod. "Well… This is rather awkward. How can I put this? Er… You see, when I was in Amaranthine…" His calm voice told her of how he'd met Justice and how the spirit had helped him see the fear and unfairness that mages were subjected to on a daily basis. Irina's eyes stared at Anders, glad to have her brother's arms still around her. She was aware that her fingers were gripping his forearms, but there was no horror or repulsion in her actions. She recognized the feeling as fascination.

Standing in front of her, there was a mage had been possessed, but who still looked like a man. Yes, the fusion had been a willing one. He'd accepted to be a host, but in doing so, he'd rejected a life for himself. Was this the kind of person who would understand what it felt like to have a death wish, just like the one she had had upon Bethany's death?

At some point she became aware that Anders had stopped talking. He felt Carver's nose nuzzling the top of her head and she looked back at the mage.

"I don't know if you haven't run away because your brother is holding you or because you're still thinking about it," Anders smiled sadly.

"Oh!" Irina said. "Well… I'm… You seem to have… I'm not sure I could… I'm mumbling, aren't I? I'm sorry…"

"It's alright. It's quite adorable. In a strictly objective way, I assure you," he said to Carver, who was frowning.

Irina looked back at her brother. "Do you want him to train me because he's not afraid of his magic?"

"Not only that, Irya. Anders is an example of the dangers of magic. You know that well; I certainly hope you haven't forgotten. Remember when Bethany–?"

"I remember," Irina murmured. The image of his sister being haunted by a demon, and their father running towards her, staff in hand, and flames surrounding his arms… He had not cared about other people seeing him, or hearing the words of power. He'd jumped head-first to save her, because he was fearless. He'd escaped the Circle, because he was fearless. Bethany had had the same nature.

"Listen to me," Carver said, raising her chin and making her look at him. "Whether you decide to come with me or stay behind... I want to know that you can control this. I don't want you to hold back what you are anymore. You can't live in fear or in pain. Anders... He says that the pain has to do with the lyrium…"

"Your body never received it," Anders explained. "Your brother says that you weren't able to afford it, and that when you could, you let _them_ have it, your father and sister. That's not good for a mage. Granted, some mages resort to other methods to palliate the effects of this deprivation, but... I'd rather not discuss that for the moment. The thing is that, as time goes by, your body begins to resent this deficiency, and starts affecting your blood. But don't worry, it's not irreversible. I wouldn't suggest taking lyrium right away. In the meantime, there are some herb–" He froze mid-sentence.

Irina was watching his eyes, which had now turned blue. The gentle man that had been talking to her up to that moment had been replaced by a stranger, who was holding his staff in an offensive position, watching the door.

"Is somebody at the door?" Carver asked in a hushed tone. "Templars?" He moved his hand over the knife hanging from his cinch. But Irina placed a hand on his arm and closed her eyes, sensing… The only magic that she had allowed herself to use freely, because it was the only thing that she could do for her family, especially during the years of persecution.

She opened her eyes and frowned in disbelief. "It's… It's Fenris…" She turned to Anders and before she could think about it, she placed a hand on his arm gently. "It's Fenris. You met him the other day." To her surprise, Anders –or perhaps Justice– subsided.

"Come in, Fenris!" Carver shouted. The door opened and the elf walked in, an air of mistrust and bewilderment painted in his face. Of course, there were mages there. How could they not know that he was behind the door? They had probably felt the lyrium carved in his flesh. And then he remembered: Irina had known that Danarius was long gone from the mansion, even before going in. How come he hadn't seen what she was back then?

"You're hurt," Irina mumured. Fenris looked at the blood on his clothes.

"I think it's someone else's blood. Some louts I found at the south entrance," he said dismissively.

Anders approached the elf and reached out for his arm. Fenris instinctively moved backwards.

"It'll only be a minute," the mage said calmly. Fenris felt Irina's eyes on him and presented Anders with the arm. It was a superficial cut, and it wasn't even bleeding much. Anders's palm glowed for a few seconds and then the mage turned away from him. "There. It should give you a minor itch, but it's temporary."

"So, what brings you to Darktown?" Carver asked him, once the wound had been addressed.

"What brings me to Darktown?" he repeated. He hadn't really expected to be caught red-handed like that. "Varric… He mentioned that you'd be here, and I wanted to ask you if you had a job for me."

"You know Varric's the one that usually handles that," Carver said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Fenris grew even more self-conscious. "Yes, well… You see, I might be leaving Kirkwall soon…"

"You're going away?" Irina's voice was fresh and calm, like a pond. So were her grey eyes, which were looking at him with a mixture of surprise and something else that he couldn't identify, but he hoped it wasn't pity.

"Just for a couple of days," he muttered. Of course he wouldn't be going anywhere. He would probably lock himself up in that mansion he'd claimed for himself and remain in one of the rooms for the following days, banging his head against the wall for acting like an idiot.

"Ah well. I hope you return soon," Carver nodded.

"Please, keep safe," Irina added with a timid smile.

Fenris breathed in deeply and cleared his throat. "I will. I'm not that careless." He turned around to leave when Carver called him again.

"Wait! Let me ask… Anders, do you need something done?"

Anders watched the elf. "Now that you mention it, Carver, yes… I've got some poultices to be taken to the Blooming Rose."

"No way I'm going anywhere near that place," Fenris muttered.

"Ah. Well, that's a shame," Anders said, cocking his head. "Irina, could you take them for me? They're all marked with names. Since I need the flasks, I'll ask you to wait until they've ingested their contents, and return with the empty vials."

"You're not sending her to that place on her own, are you?" Fenris exclaimed, raising his eyebrows.

"Irina already works for the Rose," her brother shrugged lightly, a glint of malice in his eyes. Fenris gaped at him in disbelief, but he grunted when he heard Carver laugh. "She _sews_ for the Rose. Do you really think I'd let her be one of the girls?"

"I, no... No, I suppose not," Fenris muttered, feeling like a fool.

"Well, so… Who's going?" Anders asked.

"I'll escort her to the Rose," Fenris said, walking over to the table and carrying the box in his arms. "Shall we?" he asked Irina, without looking at her.

"I'll walk up to the steps with you, and then I'm off to see Aveline," Carver said. They waited for her to put her cowl back on and say goodbye to Anders.

"So what do you think?" Carver asked her. "Can you do this? For me?"

"I think I can," Irina said, looking at Fenris discreetly through the corner of her eye. She was too polite to put him on the spot, but she wondered why he'd lied, and what he was actually doing in Darktown.

...

.

.

.

**A/N:** Thanks for your interest in this little story!


	4. Chapter 4 - Take cover

"I'd rather keep feeling the needles inside," Irina told Anders, eyeing with contempt the concoction that he was preparing for her.

"Oh, you don't mean that," Anders pouted, as he ground small chunks into a pulp. "Not after all the time I spent macerating these centipedes!"

"Is there any other way…?" she whimpered.

"Sweetheart, we're both poor. I guess I could spare two or three vials of lyrium, but if you're coming with us, we should save as many of those as we can, shouldn't we?"

"I suppose," she replied, reluctantly. Anders cast a quick look at her. She looked so young, even in the poor light of the clinic. Her front was covered by an apron which still revealed her feminine forms, in spite of the breeches and shirt that she wore when she assisted him. She was good with children and women, but men always seemed to intimidate her. Anders could tell than other than her brother or father, there had been no other masculine figure in her life, and he was certain that intimacy was not her forte.

He shook his head. Had he met her a few years before, perhaps…

"Is this satisfactory?" Irina's calm voice took him out of his reverie. She had finished organizing the chest with their scarce supplies and had already put away the bandages to take home and wash. Anders peered at the contents and nodded. She tied up her sack and waited. The day was almost done, and Carver would soon come to take her home.

Her fingers followed the marks on the wooden workbench, made by some refugees as a way to pay him back for his assistance. She wondered how many people had come to him, looking for something that would ease the pain, stop the suffering… "Say, Anders…" she started, in her soft, low voice. "I've been thinking… Do you think you could teach me–?"

"The answer is yes," he replied in a friendly way. "I _knew_ that you were going to ask about it eventually. In fact, I think you'd be great at it..."

* * *

"I'm serious, Gamlen. Carver needs it," Leandra urged her brother. "He's asked about it three times already, and I can't keep telling him that I'm still looking for it. Things shouldn't get lost in this house – it's too small for that!"

"I told you, I don't know anything about it," Gamlen grunted. "Why would I? Do you think I go around fumbling with your belongings?"

"I'm not saying you did, but there are only a number of us. I don't have it, Carver asked for it, and Irya wouldn't be caught dead near it, because–"

"–a witch gave it to you, yes. You've told me the story more than twice already." Gamlen rolled his eyes. "Perhaps you should have asked the witch to give you riches as well. It would have made life easier for all of us, I assure you," he muttered as he walked to the door. But before he could get to it, Carver went in, followed by his sister.

"Going out, Uncle?" he said merrily.

"Why? Do you want to join me?" Gamlen scoffed.

"Well, that depends on where you're going. If it's The Hanged Man, sure. Now, The _Rose…_ Hmm, if I were you, I'd just stay away from that place… And from Madam Lusine."

Irina signaled her mother to follow her to their room. Leandra sighed. "Tell me that your brother didn't find the amulet at the Rose…" Her daughter's lips curled in a smile when she heard her mother groan.

"At least we found it," she said, removing her cowl. "It was a good thing that it's seemingly worthless, and that the Madam was kind enough to return it to us. She could have got rid of it."

"So you're going away to deliver it?" Leandra asked, helping her daughter out of her clothes and washing her back. "With Carver? Are you sure that's good for you?"

"Anders says I need some fresh air, and so does he. Besides, Sundermount is a good place to collect ingredients," Irina replied, dipping the piece of cloth in the bucket and quickly rubbing it against her stomach. She shuddered. "It's getting colder, isn't it?"

"The women at the market say that it'll rain soon. Tomorrow, perhaps. I feel it in my wrists and knees. It won't be good if the rain catches you on the road, baby."

"Carver says we'll have to take our chances. He wants to do this before the expedition."

"Speaking of which…" Leandra started, but Irina shook her head.

"I still haven't decided, mother. But do not worry; you'll be the first to know."

When she had finished, she put on her brown dress and brushed her shoulder-length hair. Sometimes she wished she had a mirror. When Bethany had died, her husband had come over to the house one day, bringing along some of Bethany's possessions. Among them, there was a hand mirror. Seeing her appearance in a place other than a bucket of water or a pond had seemed strange to her – she'd never thought she looked so similar to her mother.

But the mirror had smashed while they were running across the forest, their departure from Lothering being more of an escape than a simple wish to start anew. So many things had been lost in that journey…

They walked together up to the steps that would lead her to the Chantry District. In the distance, they heard the low rumble of thunder.

"Perhaps you shouldn't go today," Leandra said. "I'm afraid it will start raining before you get home."

"It's only water," Irina smiled. "Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" she asked, as she wrapped herself in her cloak. "Praying might make you feel better."

Leandra smiled and caressed her daughter's cheek. "Thank you, my darling. But you know how I feel… Another time, perhaps." Something small and wet landed on her arm. "You'd better hurry, then. Just promise me you'll stay in the Chantry until it stops, will you?" She kissed her daughter on the forehead and watched her run up the steps. She wondered what Malcolm would say if he knew that her faith had been shaken after all the death they'd seen back in Ferelden. Leandra understood Irina's need to believe in something, but she refused to believe that all that had been lost had been part of a greater plan.

* * *

"Sweet Mother of Partha, look at this rain… It's unnatural!" Anso shuddered. There were some people running along the streets, probably looking for some shelter. "The only good thing about it is that some of those smelly cloudgazers will finally be clean."

"So no news, then," Fenris sighed. Anso shook his head.

"No news. I thought it would make you happy. Ancestors, does_ anything_ ever make you happy, elf?"

Fenris pondered the answer for a while. "Perhaps."

Anso raised his eyebrows and waited for some kind of elaboration, but it appeared that Fenris had run out of words. The dwarf rolled his eyes and shook his head, muttering a few words in his own language. The elf's permanence in the city intrigued him. They hadn't heard about his former master for months now. He'd seen him hang around Lowtown several times. Some of Anso's companions had told him that even though he stayed away from the alienage, Fenris had been seen roaming the alleys at night in company of some mercenaries. Anso had no doubt that they had referred to the impossibly tall human that he'd met through Meeran.

"Say, do you see the pirate lady very often?" he asked Fenris nonchalantly.

Fenris shrugged. "Whenever there's work to do. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason. No reason at all… Is she still as attractive as she was a couple of months ago?"

Fenris shrugged. "If that's your type, I suppose."

"Man… I still can't believe that you're not all over her. I'd be all over her like a deepstalker over a dead nug."

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure that kind of talk is very appealing to the ladies…"

Anso chuckled. "Yes. Back in Orzammar, I had a few girlfriends, you know…"

"It's a good thing they didn't follow you to the surface, then," the elf smirked, lifting the corner of the curtain with a finger and looking out of the window. "Imagine what they'd have thought if they had seen you sniveling about falling into the sky."

"Hrm. You're one to talk, hiding in here," Anso grunted. He'd received the elf in his room at the Guild's Inn more than a couple of times in the past weeks.

"I'm not hiding," Fenris frowned. "I came for a game of Diamondback only to find that you've misplaced your cards. If I leave right away, it wouldn't be polite, would it? It would appear as if I'd come here only to play cards."

"Oh, nooo… Far it be from me to think ill of you," the dwarf said sarcastically. "But seriously, I think I'm doing you a favour."

"How's that?"

"You still owe the others a shitload of money."

"And I said I'd pay them. Eventually." Fenris walked to the door. "I have a job lined up in a couple of days."

"Sellsword? Wait – I thought you didn't have that huge sword of yours anymore. In fact…" Anso squinted. "I see you're not wearing your spikes. That's not wise, considering your history."

"I don't really need a sword to defend myself," the elf shrugged, and raised a hand to say goodbye to the dwarf.

As he was striding back to the mansion, he heard someone following him. The rain had caused the area to be almost deserted; the merchants were gone but there still were a few people walking around. As soon as he reached the last corner before the exit to the Chantry District, he hid and waited.

"Are you sure you saw him take a turn here?" one of the voices said.

"Shhh! He's probably still around," another voice replied.

"We shouldn't be doing this. He's friends with Varric Tethras, and it's not worth the money they'd pay us…" Three of them now.

"But are we sure we're gonna get some money out of this? I haven't seen many Imperials in Kirkwall lately…" A woman's voice.

"We'll surely find them along the coast." Yet another voice. "But we need to decide what to do. This doesn't look like the kind of bloke we can take with us."

"Maybe we should get some chains," the first man sniggered. "We can deliver him that way, since he's gonna be clapped in irons anyway."

Fenris waited. Five people. And he was on his own… His hand reached for the hilt of his broadsword, but there was nothing there to be found. He mentally cursed Varric for always making fun of his clothes, and himself for being foolish enough to take heed of those empty words. Being safe was far more important than being inconspicuous.

Well… He was not helpless, but he was pressed for time. It was either crouch and hide again, hoping they wouldn't notice him, or come out and give them a fight. He smirked. Fear was not his thing.

With a battle cry, he lunged against the group. He didn't need a blade. He was a blade. He'd always been so; an instrument of death and destruction, honed in blood and pain. He'd been made for that. His fists sent the men reeling against walls and crates, his hands twisted arms until he heard the snapping of the bones, and the lyrium in his veins burned inside him like a sun, pushing him to the limit.

When only the woman stood, cowering against a wall, he grabbed her by the hair and snarled, "Those who seek me… Where are they?"

"I… I don't know," the woman shivered, her eyes darting about. "Keelan… H-he had a contact… The Wounded Coast… But I-we didn't know…"

"Were you even supposed to meet them?"

"I told you, we never arranged–!"

An arrow grazed Fenris's arm, making him groan and briefly loose his grip on the woman, who swiftly sank a knife on the elf's side. The last thing she did, though, for Fenris's ghostly fist went through her. When she died, there was a look of disbelief in her face, as if she couldn't understand what had gone wrong.

Fenris didn't linger to see who had shot him. There must have been another one, a silent one. He pressed his hand to the side and walked to the passageway. Again, two options. He could either go back to the mansion and drink himself to death, or he could go to Anders's clinic, and let the abomination heal him.

Slowly but firmly, he went back to Hightown.

* * *

The Grand Cleric's monthly sermon was always something that made Irina's heart flutter. That had little to do with the man standing behind her, but she couldn't deny that there was a certain appeal to the mysterious Brother. They had spoken once or twice – a brief exchange of words, on some occasions in which he'd gone to their home in Lowtown, looking for Carver. He was polite and correct, with a voice that could calm people down or inflame them. Every now and then the Grand Cleric allowed him to sing bits of the Chant of Light that were relevant to the sermon she was giving, and his rich voice had more carry and intensity than that of the other Brothers and Sisters.

When she finished, Elthina gave her benediction to those who sought it. Irina was the last one in line, as always. Elthina smiled at the young woman and watched her leave. Sebastian cleared his throat discreetly.

"Yes, Sebastian?" she asked.

"Your Grace, would you excuse me for a minute?"

"Of course, child." She was not oblivious to the direction in which Sebastian's eyes were lingering, but she trusted him enough to know that he had left that life of earthly pleasures behind. And besides, she thought as she saw him walk away silently, there would be no danger in letting him talk to a young woman like Irina Hawke. She was not the kind who could lead people astray.

"Miss Hawke!" Sebastian called after Irina. She looked back in surprise as she adjusted her cowl.

"Brother Sebastian," she greeted him with a nod. She held her hands together demurely and waited.

"Are you waiting for your brother?"

"No, I'm waiting for the rain to subside. The tiles of Hightown looks very pretty, but I'm afraid I'll slip and fall, and possibly crack my head, if I go down now." She smiled and Sebastian found himself smiling as well.

"If you want I can walk you home," he offered. "I wouldn't mind."

"Oh no! So kind of you to offer, though," she said dismissively. Her eyes wandered towards the Estate district, whose lush vegetation was greener than ever in the rain.

"Miss Hawke, I've been meaning to ask…" Sebastian said softly. "You are a mage…" He saw her look at him with her eyes open wide. "No, please… Do not worry. I understand your concerns, but I'm no Templar. I was wondering if you'd never thought of willingly join the Circle?"

"I… Maker, what a question…" Irina giggled nervously. She rubbed her arms and looked away.

"Forgive me," Sebastian said hastily. "It was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable. I was only curious."

"There's no harm done," she said softly. She looked at her hands and back at him. His blue eyes looked earnest. She smiled gently. "In Ferelden, I had to stand by the wishes of my father. He and my older sister were mages, and joining the Circle would have been like treason. Here, I see the legacy of my family in my brother's actions." She looked away. "I know he's doing his best for me. He's keeping the family together by respecting my father's will. I am no threat to the people of Kirkwall, Brother. If the Templars came for me, however… I would not struggle. I'd rather submit than see my family suffer for me."

"It's a noble sentiment, albeit unnecessary. You are of age. The choice should be yours now. And if you don't mind me saying so, there is something about you," he murmured slowly, "a peace of mind and spirit that might benefit some of the people in the Circle – or the Chantry."

"Are you proposing, Brother Sebastian?" Irina asked. Sebastian's softly blushed cheeks both amused and mortified her. "Well, I didn't mean-!"

"Oh, neither did I! All I meant was…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Maker… Well, what I meant was that perhaps you'd be interested in doing the right thing."

It was Irina's turn to blush. "I wasn't aware that I was doing the wrong thing by staying away from other people's business, Brother," she replied coolly. "Perhaps I should revise my conduct." She turned around and walked down the steps of the Chantry, leaving him with dozens of dead words in his lips.

She rushed down and almost slipped on one of the weathered steps. Her hand clung to the banister and she paused for a while. She needed to breathe. She recognized Carver's foul temper burning inside her every time that she got angry, which fortunately didn't happen very often. Her eyes were clouded with tears of rage. What a stupid thing to do, to get angry with someone who had dared voice her feelings. Sebastian hadn't been wrong, but he'd caught her off guard, and she had reacted foolishly. She wiped the tears with the back of her hand and was about to keep going downstairs when she saw him staggering up the stairs and fall. His white hair was damp and his eyes were closed. Even in the poor light of the passageway, she could tell that he was pale.

"Fenris!" she cried out, and dashed to his side. He opened his eyes briefly and focused on her face.

What was she doing there, he wondered. That was no place for her to be on her own. Kirkwall was a hard place. There was danger around every corner. She wasn't made for that. She was soft and tender, the kind of woman that should wear pretty dresses and play the harp and sing sweetly and eat delicacies and giggle while resting on cushions.

"You're delirious," she murmured, a hint of sweetness in her voice. Fenris's eyes opened sharply. He'd actually said those things out loud. He scrambled to his feet and leaned against the banister. "Let me help you," she said. Before he could reject her, she had passed his arm around her shoulders and forced him to lean on her.

When they reached the mansion, he wanted to collapse right next to the door, but she kept pushing and dragging him, until she found a settee in one of the rooms in the lower floor. He landed on his back and screamed as his hand stopped pressing the wound. The last thing he heard was a gasp, and then he sank into a dreamless sleep.

Irina stood there for a while, wondering if she could risk dashing to Darktown and fetching Anders. But she was alone. Perhaps he could ask Sebastian to do it? No, Sebastian and Anders should not meet. Fenris was shuddering, unconscious… If only she hadn't left her things at home… She clenched her fists and looked around the house for supplies. She was pleased to see that Fenris kept a good fire roaring upstairs. She tore some of the bedclothes she found to make bandages and, as she waited for the water to boil with the pieces of cloth in it, she found some bottles of wine. She sent the beeswax bung right into the bottle, not knowing how to open it properly, and she hoped that it wouldn't matter that much. Anders always had some beeswax lying around, so it couldn't be that bad for the body, could it? Right?

She paused and took a breath. Her mind was racing, but she was not afraid. If worse came to worst… Well, at least now she had one more thing to try.

Bringing along the bandages and the wine, Irina returned to Fenris's side, but he was still unconscious. She took a deep breath. "He's just another patient at Anders's clinic," she said out loud. "A patient." Her fingers found the place where the wound had been made and tore the gap wider, so that she could take a better look. She felt her cheeks burning as the torn fabric gave her a view of his stomach. Her eyes glanced back at his face, but he was not there. Pressing her lips with determination, she quickly tore the rest apart.

Irina had seen Carver's torso uncovered before, so she knew what she would find, but she didn't understand why seeing Fenris's made her feel light-headed. Perhaps it was the wine nearby, or the heavy air in the room. It had to be one of those things. She quickly cleaned the wound and poured wine over it. There was a storm outside, and she wondered if it would ever stop. She knew what she had to do: once it subsided, she would run to the Chantry and ask for supplies, and she'd ask Sebastian to fetch Carver. Carver would fetch Anders, and Anders would know what to do and everything would be fine…

Fenris whimpered softly, bringing her back to the unpleasant reality – she might not have much time to act. She bit her lower lip and let out an anguished sigh. She stared at her hands for a moment and then at Fenris. If he woke up before she was done… What would keep him from harming her?

But there was no other choice. She took a clean cloth, dipped it in cold water, wrung it, and placed it over his eyes and forehead to soothe the fever, but also to prevent him from seeing her. Her hands hovered over the wound and she closed her eyes, remembering what Anders had taught her.

The needles came back to her, pricking her from the inside and making her cringe. But this wasn't about her. Fenris needed healing, and she'd have to get used to the sensation. Her palms felt warm and her lips silently chanted the word of power that Anders had taught her, again and again, until her mind was filled with only that.

An unfamiliar, warm sensation pouring into him, Fenris opened his eyes and found them covered. _Magic._ The magisters had finally caught up with him. He blindly grabbed whoever was there by the wrist and was about to break it when he heard her let out a cry. He took the cloth off his eyes and found Irina, pale and sweaty.

Not the magisters. Not an enemy. Irina.

"What… Where…?" He looked around. The mansion. He remembered. He'd been hurt. His hand moved to the wounded side and found it still open, but not bleeding. He groaned.

"Don't-! Don't touch it, please," she said weakly. "I was… I was only trying to help. I'm sorry, Fenris."

His name in her lips sounded strange, as if there was another Fenris that he didn't know about. Not the slave, not the pet. A different Fenris. He stared at her for a moment. "You were using magic."

Irina lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know how you feel about that. But… It was the only thing I could do. There's not much more I can give. I asked Anders to teach me, some weeks ago." Her voice was faint, and Fenris remembered how exhausting it was for her to cast spells.

And yet, there she was, healing him; using her magic for his benefit. She had dismissed the pain she felt for his sake. _There's not much more I can give,_ she'd said. Fenris felt the same way. He sighed and closed his eyes, drawing whatever energy he had left. The searing pain came to him, bringing back memories that he never wanted to relive. But if he was going to endure the pain, then at least it should serve a better cause.

Irina watched him glow. She didn't know what to expect with him. She wanted him to understand that she hadn't meant to inconvenience him in any way, but before she could speak, she heard him say, "Try again."

She gaped at him. Was he trying to give her the lyrium she needed? She felt wicked, as though she was one of the slavers that had kept him leashed back in Tevinter. But as if he could read her mind, he spoke again. "Do not worry. Try again."

Irina swallowed hard and moved her hands over his stomach. She felt her power coming from her core, swirling around her arms - this time, it was flowing like water, fresh and swift. She looked at Fenris, who was watching her. He didn't look angry or in pain. For the first time, he was just looking at her normally. Their eyes focused on the wound, which was slowly receding. Neither of them spoke.

* * *

"I didn't find much, I'm sorry," Fenris said, bringing with him a plate with some cheese and bread. "I'm not used to hosting - Irina?" he called out. She was not there. He left the plate on the table and walked to the other room. He found her browsing the shelves ridden with books of all kinds and sizes.

"I can understand your not coming out of this house more often," she said merrily. "Look at this collection! There are so many I've never even heard of!" Her fingers stroked the spine of one of the big books and for a moment Fenris thought the book would purr.

"I've occasionally used them to stoke the fire," he grunted.

Irina's grey eyes opened wide. "But… They're _books_…"

"They burn well."

"They've got stories, and history, and poems, and...!" She looked at him, who was looking away. It dawned on her and she felt embarrassed. "And you can't read, can you?"

Fenris gave her a hard look. "Slaves are not taught to read. The only word we were taught was 'poison', to make sure we wouldn't feed our masters some of it." He smirked. "You would think that they wouldn't teach us about it, but we always knew it was not worth it. The punishment we'd get would be tenfold worse." He turned around and walked out of the room. "You're welcome to take them, if you want."

He sat on the floor in front of the fire and his fingers ran over the bandaged wound. It felt itchy, but she'd told him not to scratch it, and he knew better than to disobey that kind of command. His green eyes watched the flames. There was a certain warmth in the room that he'd never felt before. Perhaps it was the rain outside that made the inside feel more homely. He heard her quiet steps behind him and suddenly she was there, sitting on the settee behind him, a book in her hands. He rolled his eyes and ate a piece of cheese.

"What was that look?" she asked.

"You're going to try to teach me how to read," he droned.

"I'm not," she replied. "You don't seem to want to learn, so I won't teach you."

"Much appreciated," he muttered.

"But do you mind if I read out?" she asked.

Fenris's lips curled into an involuntary smile. He wrinkled his nose, trying to cover the gesture. "I knew it."

"What?" Irina said innocently. "I've been told my voice is good enough to sing along the sweet notes of a harp, so my reading shouldn't be that bad."

Fenris blushed and looked away. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he grunted, "but if you must read, so be it. I'll be over here, drinking some wine, before you pour more of it on me."

"Fine," she conceded. She cleared her throat and read out, _"At Shartan's word, the sky grew black with arrows…" _

* * *

She'd fallen asleep, undoubtedly exhausted after the effort she'd made. That night, Fenris kept feeding the fire for her. When he was on his own, he didn't mind waking up to a cold room, but he wasn't alone. He would be, once she returned home. For the moment, she was there.

He didn't know what to make of it. His eyes wandered about her sleeping figure, stopping over her hands, still clinging to that book, and her rosy lips, slightly parted. The sleep of the innocent.

He knew that the best thing to do would be to venture out and contact her brother. Carver would soon go to the Chantry looking for her. Perhaps he should go and leave word that she was there, with him.

Or he could also cover her with a blanket the way he was doing it now, and let her sleep as much as she needed. She snuggled under the covers and muttered "thank you" before going back to sleep.

It came so easy for other people, and yet, he'd never thought of saying it. Then again, he had never had the chance.

He wasn't used to sleeping on softer surfaces. He curled up on the floor in front of the fire and covered himself with another blanket. He watched her, hoping she'd sleep there all night long. He was tired as well, and before he closed his eyes, he murmured, "Thank you, Irya."

...

.

.

.

**A/N:** Thank you for your patience, and the favs and follows! I did lose the files, and reinstalling things took forever! :( Hopefully everything will be better now.


	5. Chapter 5 - I see you

"How come nobody thought of getting horses?" Varric huffed and puffed as they walked along the road leading to Sundermount. "Shit, Hawke… The _one_ time you take care of the logistics of a job, you make me walk all across Thedas."

"Why are you even here?" Carver asked, looking back over his shoulder. "This isn't a_ job_ – we won't get any money from the Dalish."

"Carver, I'm surprised: I must know how the story of the medallion ends, and you're all piss-poor narrators. Did you hear that, elf?" Varric asked Fenris, whose eyes were searching for signs of movement around them.

"The 'no money' thing?" Fenris asked distractedly.

"How did they talk you into this, if there's no riches involved?"

Fenris considered his reply for a moment. "Creditors," he said slowly. "They might be going to the mansion looking for me, and if all of you are gone, who will defend me?"

Varric stared at him. "Are you…? Wait; was that supposed to be a joke?"

Fenris shrugged. "Believe what you wish."

"Oh, come on, pretty elf," Isabela chuckled. "You could always ask little Irina to patch you up if they attack you again…" Her words ended in a teasing note that made him press his lips. Of course they all had heard about the ambush in Lowtown, how he'd been wounded, and how Irina had healed him. The morning after, when Fenris was walking her back to her home, Carver had been furious with both of them. Irina had apologized profusely, claiming that they'd both been so exhausted after what had happened that they'd fallen asleep shortly after. Fenris had had to jump in and explain everything thoroughly. He wasn't afraid of Irina's brother, but Carver's murderous eyes and clenched fists were never a good sign.

"Ah, that's right," Varric sneered. "You still have to show us the scars, elf. Some of us still have a hard time buying that story…"

"No scars. She did a pretty good job," Fenris muttered.

"I can still give him new ones," Carver grunted.

"So where's the Princess?" Varric asked. "You don't let her around the empty-pocketed elf but you don't mind her gallivanting with the empty-pocketed apostate?"

"If money was a requirement to get close to Irina, not even Carver would be allowed to get too close," Aveline said, nudging her Fereldan companion.

"Remind me again why you're here, Red?" Varric asked.

Aveline looked back at the dwarf. The corners of her lips were bent down, as if she was unhappy with the situation. "Jeven gave me some time off after I 'questioned' some of the procedures. I was hoping to persuade Carver to help me turn a few stones again…"

Varric guffawed. "Well, well – who'd have said that incorruptible Aveline 'Red' Vallen would end up getting her hands dirty with a bunch of mercenaries and refugees?"

"It's not about getting dirty, it's precisely the opposite. And don't call me 'Red'," she frowned. "You're better than that. Keep thinking of a good nickname, Varric, or else…" She stopped walking. "What's that sound?" Her hand moved over the hilt of her sword.

Varric had already readied Bianca when they heard hurried steps running towards them. From among the tall bushes, Anders and Irina emerged, dirty and sweaty. Anders rested his hands on his knees and breathed in and out heavily. Irina walked towards Carver, breathless.

"Wolves…" she managed to say, pressing her right hand to her stomach.

"She wouldn't let me kill them," Anders explained between gasps of air. "Andraste's tits, I'm so unfit… I… _We_ had to hex them… To have time to escape…"

"Why wouldn't you let him kill them, Irya?" Carver asked his sister as he sheltered his eyes from the sun and scouted the area.

"There was no need," she replied faintly. "It's just animals…" She found Fenris's water flask in front of her face, but she rejected it politely. "Thank you," she said kindly, before taking a sip of her own.

"Those animals wouldn't hesitate to kill you," Fenris grunted.

She looked at Fenris sadly. "It's in their nature. They can't help it," Irina replied. "But I am no animal. I can."

"Well, no harm done," Isabela said lightly, "but we'd better get going. They'll probably track us down. And I'm sorry, little one," she said, patting Irina on the head, "but I _will_ kill them if they come near me."

"Understood," Irina nodded, but her disapproval was palpable, and Fenris wondered what was special about wolves that she wanted to protect them. Rabbits, deer, fish – she had never objected before. For a brief moment he found himself thinking of the evening they'd spent together.

_"It's my grandmother's name. My father's mother," she had explained. "I heard him say once that it meant 'peace', and that he believed that it was the most appropriate name for someone like me."  
__"He seems to have been correct," Fenris had replied, sitting on the floor cross-legged. "Though there was no way he would have known how you would turn out." Her fingers were stroking the corners of the book and he had gotten distracted. He was taking another sip of the red wine when she had asked him about his name. "Pardon me?"  
__"Your name, _'Fenris'_ – it is… unusual." She had left her book resting on her lap and had wrapped her arms around her legs. Her fair-skinned toes were showing under the hem of the dress and he had wondered if her legs would look as soft as the parts that he had seen already.  
__He had shaken his head, feeling stupid. Perhaps the wine and the loss of blood had affected him more than he had thought. "Tevene. Danarius's choice. _'Little wolf'._"  
__She had cocked her head and watched him until he had shifted uncomfortably under her grey eyes, only because he couldn't let himself look at her as if he was her equal. He'd never be.  
__"I can see why," she had said gently, and then she had gone silent._

"Elf?" Varric called him. "They're gonna leave us behind if we don't move our asses."

Fenris looked ahead. Carver, Aveline, and Isabela were talking loudly; Anders and Irina were already far from them, pointing out to a cluster of plants. Herbalism was something that Anders knew pretty well, and Fenris had sometimes seen Irina and Carver walking to Darktown, their arms filled with sacks of plants, leaves, and seeds. Fenris had always thought it silly of the healer to expect something to grow in that place. But somehow, he had managed to grow some elfroot and dandelion to Irina's delight.

Fenris followed Varric, his eyes never straying from the people ahead of him.

* * *

Isabela gave him a piece of deer meat and sat down next to him, away from the fire. She was taking the occasional swig of some kind of light drink that the Dalish had offered them.

"So…" she said, her eyes glistening with amusement. "Which of these girls will you bed tonight?"

"Excuse me?" Fenris blinked.

"I've seen the way they look at you. I think it's your markings that they're after." She bumped his leg with hers playfully. "Or perhaps it's that skin of yours, or your mysterious scowl…"

"Are you flirting with me?" Fenris snorted. "What will Carver say?"

Isabela scoffed. "He wouldn't notice. Not anymore, at least." Her amber eyes landed on the tall warrior, who was also away from the group, talking to a petite elf with a certain air of loneliness. "I guess I'm not his type."

"Anso's interested in you," Fenris noted, making her laugh.

"The dwarf? How adorable…" She stretched and played with the grass on which they were sitting. "At least he's got pretty eyes. You have pretty eyes too…" she said softly.

"Flattering. But I'm not interested, Isabela," Fenris said, the shadow of a smile dancing on his lips.

"Liar. I think you _are_ interested in doing it, but not with me," she purred next to his ear, grazing the skin of his neck with her teeth.

Fenris moved away quickly and stared at her. "What do you know?"

She smiled. "It's not that hard to see. Even Carver knows it, which is why he's more protective than ever. It's not a bad thing… I mean, I don't know what you see in her. She's not exactly pretty. Her nose is delicate, but a bit too long for her little face. The hair is a little mousy. Well, she's all a bit mousy. Quiet, and yet sneaky…"

Fenris rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't call her 'sneaky'."

"Well, she was sneakily looking at you a while ago," Isabela said amusedly, causing Fenris to look in Irina's direction. He found her looking away quickly. She said something to Anders and the two of them went for a walk. Fenris grunted, making the pirate chuckle. "You two are very discreet."

"Way to make it awkward, Isabela," the young elf protested. "We sure needed that."

"Oh, so you're 'we' already?" Isabela let out a hearty laugh. "All I'm saying is, you two will probably spend a long time down there in the Deep Roads. There's no need to rush things, but that will happen, sooner or later. Trust me - I know an interested woman when I see one. Take Aveline and that guardsman Donnic, for instance. Aveline doesn't banter, but I caught her saying something funny to that guy once or twice. She's got something for him, even though she may not know it yet. And the same goes for Irina."

"Just because we speak? She spends a lot of time with Anders, and you're not saying anything about that."

"Hrm," Isabela said, looking at the two mages. "Anders does have nice hands… And I'm pretty sure he's got a nice body under those rags. And he seems to be very attentive with her. Maybe you're right," she said, patting him on the leg before getting back on her feet and joining Varric, who was talking to an old elf about forgotten stories.

Fenris's eyes followed the mages. He felt like a fool. He didn't exactly want to bed Irina. He wasn't comfortable with the idea of that kind of intimacy. But having watched her sleep back at the mansion, he realized that he was less lonely when she was around. He could feel that she didn't fear him, and he wondered if something had changed within him or within her.

* * *

The young Dalish put down her staff and looked back at the group. They were staring at her, making her blush with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry… I should have told you–"

"That you're a mage?" Carver asked. He pointed to Irina and Anders, whose hands were still on their staves. "We really don't mind."

Merrill smiled shyly. "I'll remember that."

They continued walking up Sundermount, Isabela and Aveline heading the line, Carver, Merrill, Anders, and Irina talking about Dalish magic, and Fenris and Varric closing the march. The dwarf kept puffing and whining, which greatly amused Fenris. It was fun to see that even those that he looked up to complained about trivial things as much as he did. Suddenly Varric miscalculated a jump and tripped on a loose rock, sending him tumbling down.

"How the mighty have fallen," Fenris smirked when he helped the dwarf to stand up.

"I'm starting to wish you didn't have a sense of humour, ya know?" Varric barked and brushed the dust off his coat. His palms were grazed and when he took Bianca, he flinched. "Shit…" he muttered, looking at his hands.

"Can I help?" a soft voice said behind them. Irina had fallen behind and was looking at the two men with curiosity.

"It's nothing, Princess. Just a scratch," Varric said dismissively.

"Let Irina heal you," Fenris said, barely looking at her.

"I can do that, yes," she said to Varric.

The dwarf's eyes went from one of his companions to the other. When had they started acting as two sides of the same coin? He tried wiggling his fingers, but the skin felt tight and burning. "Eh. Alright," he nodded. "What do I have to lose?"

"Just your hands," Fenris mocked him, making him scowl. "Are you ready?" he asked the young woman, still without looking at her.

"Oh, you don't need to do that," she said gently.

"I know." His green eyes landed on her grey ones and lingered there for a moment. Irina felt a warm shiver rippling up her skin. _It must be the need for lyrium, _she thought_. It has to be that._ As if from afar, she heard Varric clearing his throat and she nodded. The word of power appeared in her mind and as Fenris glowed, the healing magic poured on Varric in gentle waves.

"Woah," the dwarf said when she was done. "It feels different from Blondie's magic. His is hot and fast, yours is… fresh. Slow and tender. Did you learn it from Anders?"

"I did. I'm doing it exactly as he taught me. I'm afraid I don't know why it would be different," she replied honestly.

"Perhaps it is different for every mage," Fenris ventured in a murmur.

Varric raised an eyebrow. "Could be. Especially because not every mage has you, elf."

"I don't have Fenris," Irina said quickly. "I mean, he's not mine. I don't have him."

"I don't have her either. It's not… We don't have each other," Fenris said, trying to help, only to realize that Varric's eyebrows had risen even higher. "You've got a dirty mind," he frowned.

"I did _not_ say _a word_," Varric said, raising his hands. "But now I can believe that she spent the night fixing you, and from what I've seen, I was right: you two _could_ work together, and _you,_ Princess, can be more powerful than you've ever thought."

"She wouldn't use me like that," Fenris said.

"Or any other way," Irina hurried to say.

"Or any other way," Fenris repeated embarrassedly, to Varric's amusement.

"Fine. Forget I said anything," the dwarf said. "Let's just move on. We've got some catching up to do. Maker's breath, Princess – why does your brother have such long legs? Look how far we are from them!"

"We'll be fine, Varric," Irina smiled.

When they caught up with the group, Carver was on the verge of fighting with a group of Dalish that had set up camp on the way.

"Stay back," Fenris told Irina as he walked up to the place where his companions were arguing with the elves.

"You can't make me apologize, _shem,_" one of the elves spat. "We know what she is, and tragedy will befall you if you take her along with you. Better push her off the summit and get rid of this monster as soon as you can…"

"How can you talk about one of yours like that?" Carver shouted. "She's been nothing but helpful."

"Suit yourself, shem," the elf shrugged. "We're done here."

Fenris looked at Merrill's face, which was red with embarrassment. He wondered what she'd done to deserve such treatment. If there was one thing he knew about the Dalish was how proud they were of their clans and each of the members. Whatever she had done had earned her the scorn of her people, and he had a bad feeling about it.

He saw Carver talking to the little woman in a low voice, asking her if she was alright. Isabela's hunch had been correct – he had taken a liking to the Dalish girl. Fenris looked at the pirate woman, who seemed to pretend not to pay attention to them, and he felt sorry for her. If she'd ever felt anything for Carver, he obviously hadn't taken it seriously. Fenris felt grateful for not being in that situation. If something like that happened to him…

He heard some voices behind him and found Varric and Irina laughing at Anders's impersonation of Carver's macho attitude. Irina was covering her mouth with her hands, but Fenris could still see her shoulders convulsing with the giggling. Varric was holding his stomach in laughter, and for a while Fenris wished he could cause that kind of reaction on people. The dwarf was always teasing him about how broody he always seemed to be. How could he explain that there was nothing to be merry about? That he'd always been little more than an object, and that objects were not entitled to have a life of their own, or to found joy in the simple things like everybody else did?

Anders was in a particularly good mood that day, and he was holding Irina's hand, dancing with her, making her laugh. Fenris looked away.

Poor Isabela.

* * *

"Are you sure there's no other path?" Aveline asked Merrill hesitantly. "Perhaps we could go down and climb the mountain from the north side?"

"Aveline, don't tell me you're afraid," Carver smiled, patting his friend on the back. "It's just a passage."

"It's an _underground_ passage, surely teeming with spiders and Maker knows what else," the woman shuddered.

"Spiders don't bother you unless you attack them," Isabela shrugged. "Let's go; the sooner we finish with this, the better." She walked into the passage first and disappeared from sight. They waited. Suddenly they heard her shrieking.

"What happened?" Aveline asked, unsettled.

"Are you alright?" Carver shouted, running into the passage himself. "Oh, _you idiot!_ Come down, Aveline; Isabela was just trying to scare you!"

"Slattern," Aveline muttered, her fear swallowed by the rage of being fooled by the pirate. "I'll show her…"

Merrill followed them, and then it was Varric's turn. Anders turned to Irina and kissed her hand. "M'lady," he said solemnly, "if I don't return, do not weep for me, for I will have gone to a better place…"

"Don't be silly," Irina smiled, wrinkling her nose, and she watched him disappear in the darkness of the cavern.

"After you," Fenris said. Irina looked at him briefly and nodded. Just as she turned to enter the gaping hole, something shimmering caught her eye.

"Did you see that?" she asked Fenris, placing a hand on his arm. His skin glistened and she removed her hand. "Sorry… I didn't mean…"

"No... No harm done. See what?"

"There was something shining over there, among those bushes." Whatever it was, it sparkled again. Fenris's hand moved over the hilt of his sword and gripped it cautiously. _Armor?_ Was there someone there? Perhaps they'd followed him…

"_There!_ Again! Did you see that?" Irina murmured, following him silently as he approached the bushes to take a better look. There was a hissing sound coming from the plants.

"Step back!" he shouted, but something caught him by the leg and pulled him hard, making him lose balance and drop his sword. As he struggled against whatever it was that was dragging him away, something crawled up his leg, squeezing it mightily. He screamed. Thick tendrils crept up his body, covering it quickly, and there was one thought crossing his mind.

She hadn't been caught.

Something warm grabbed him by the hand. Something human and soft, holding on to his wrist desperately. And then, Irina's voice.

"Fenris! Fight back! I can't do it without you!"

A sudden scream, coming from her. Her body was being pulled along with his, and he struggled to get to her. Amidst the constricting vines, he caught sight of her terrified eyes. He was willing to bet that his hands could rip those plants apart if he focused, as long as he could breathe. Instead, his hands reached out to her and found hers. He covered her with his body and when he looked up, before everything went dark, a light shone on them.

His body started glowing. _Magic._ Anders's. The lights blinded him for a moment, and he heard the shouting and movement around them. The hissing died out, and the tendrils loosened their grip.

"Are you alright?" Anders ran towards them followed by Merrill. "For the love of the Maker, you could have died!"

Fenris stared at him and then he stared down at Irina, who was still clinging to him. "Hey," he said softly. "We're safe now."

Irina's grey eyes watched him in silence and shortly after, she nodded. Anders offered her his hand and helped her up, and he did the same for Fenris.

"Thank you for protecting her," Anders said, letting out a sigh of relief.

Fenris rubbed his arms. "What was that?"

"Demon's Bind," Merrill said. "The clan's scouts must have missed this spot. There are three 'nests' around Sundermount. I'll make sure to tell them about this one when we return to camp."

"I thought you wouldn't be returning," Irina said, still visibly shaken.

"That's true," Merrill admitted.

"So why would you care what happens to them?" Fenris asked dryly. "They weren't very kind to you."

Merrill stared at him tiredly. "Even if they shun me out, they're still my clan. And someone has to care for them."

"I've heard about the bind before," Anders said, examining a dead tendril. "How did they lure you?"

"Something shiny," Irina's voice trembled. She turned to Fenris. "I'm so sorry. If I hadn't insisted…"

But Fenris shook his head. "You don't need to say anything. I thought it was…"

"Slavers?" she asked. Fenris nodded. "I'm glad it was just a plant, then." Her voice was warm, and she reached out to touch his arm sympathetically, but she stopped before getting to him, afraid to hurt him. "Thank you," she simply said, trying not to look at him. She turned to Anders and Merrill. "And thank you, both of you, as well."

* * *

For the second time in the day, they all stared at her. This time, what she had done was not welcome. Irina was the first to speak. "You summoned a demon. Why? There was no need…"

"I summoned a spirit," Merrill said defensively. "What does it matter? We needed help and it helped us, didn't it?"

Irina could feel both Anders and Fenris tensing nearby. "We could have found another way. We've done that so far. There was no need to resort to… To…"

"Blood magic," Fenris spat. "I hope we won't have to deal with another abomination soon enough."

"I'm over here, you know," Anders quipped. "I don't recall your rejecting help from this abomination lately…"

"I'm not possessed, Fenris, if that's what you fear. I'm in control," Merrill said adamantly.

Carver took a step forward. "One thing at a time, please. Let's… Let's deal with this ritual first, and then we can talk about… Well, whatever it is you do."

"Are you going to trust the blood mage with a_ ritual of the dead?_" Fenris asked incredulously.

"Do we have a choice?" Carver asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're putting us all in danger," the elf replied. "Your sister's with us – are you willing to risk her safety for some… some promise to a witch?"

"If you're so concerned, you can protect her yourself, can't you," Carver barked, and walked into the ruins that separated them from the altar.

As soon as they'd stepped in, they felt it. A place of carnage and death, the air thickened with the spirits of those who had been sacrificed there long before their arrival.

"There's no rest for the wicked here," Varric muttered, gripping Bianca tightly as he looked around the area. Irina and Anders were casting protective glyphs, making way for the others to reach the altar safely.

There was an explosion behind them. "One of the hexes went off! Something's coming – be ready! Irina, stay with me!" Anders shouted to the young woman, who held her staff in her right hand and summoned a wisp with her left hand. Fenris's eyes followed the ghostly light, silver blue in colour, before he turned to face whatever had been awakened.

The rattle of bones made him shiver, but he had seen worse things back in Tevinter. Those hollow men wouldn't scare him. He whirled and got rid of three of them in one swift cut. He looked at his companions. Aveline and Isabela were fighting back to back, and so were Carver and Varric. Anders and Irina were dealing with the healing and the energy of the others, and amidst the chaos, he saw Irina falter. Her wisp vanished and she became pale, her brow furrowed in pain.

"Merrill!" Fenris shouted, pointing to Anders. The Dalish ran towards the mage, helping him to upkeep the glyphs and hexes, and adding some of her own. Fenris stood in front of Irina, glowing blue, and he saw her gather her strength and casting a sizzling spell on a Horror. Fenris finished the abomination and when he looked around again, his companions looked exhausted but unharmed.

"I'd suggest resting…" Varric panted, "but honestly, I'd rather… get this thing done and run the fuck outta this place…"

"I agree," Aveline said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "Carver… Deal with it; we'll be watching your back, just in case."

Carver and Irina walked to the altar followed by Varric, and signaled Merrill to begin the ritual. In the distance, they saw how the figure of a formidable woman appeared to come out of the fire burning on the altar stone.

"Holy shit," Isabela gasped. "Get ready…"

But the woman seemed to have a quiet conversation with them. Three times brother and sister looked back at their companions, who couldn't hear anything but the whistling of the wind up there. When it was time, the woman seemed to jump off the mountain, but then they saw a dragon flying away.

"Holy shit indeed..." Aveline muttered, passing her flask of wine around to the other three companions that were standing with her.

* * *

On the way down, Carver and Irina didn't talk much about what had happened with the witch, and Varric was unusually quiet. The others weren't sure that they wanted to know what had transpired between the Hawkes and the mysterious woman, so they decided to remain silent as well.

Merrill was in no better shape than the rest. Her despair grew even more when they reached Kirkwall and she was introduced to the alienage. Some of the people there knew her clan's Keeper and they'd managed to find her a place that was relatively safe and warm.

"I know I'm in no position to ask," Merrill said uncomfortably, "but would it be too much to ask you to come by and visit me some time?" The question wasn't directed to anyone in particular, but Carver stepped ahead.

"I will," he said. "We'll be making the final preparations for our journey in the following weeks, but I promise you we will come," he said, wrapping his arm around his sister's shoulder.

Merrill looked at Irina, expecting to find reproach in her face, but she only found pity. "If you need to talk, just remember that our house is… Well, that we're willing to listen."

"Thank you," Merrill bowed, and she disappeared inside the house.

"Are we all going to the Hanged Man?" Isabela said, stretching. "I think that after this trip, I need a bath… _And_ a strong drink."

"I'll second that," Aveline said.

"If you two are taking a bath together…" Varric ventured, but the guardswoman slapped the back of his head and scowled. "Whaaat? I didn't say anything…"

"I'll be going back to the clinic," Anders said. "I'll be waiting for you tomorrow," he told Irina, before scurrying down the steps that led to Darktown.

As the others strolled along the streets, Fenris couldn't help but wonder what the witch had told them that had made Irina so quiet. Curiosity was not part of his nature, and he felt uncomfortable with it. When they reached the entrance to the slums, they all said goodbye and Fenris had started to walk away when he heard his name.

Carver had taken a little pouch from his cinch. He threw it to the elf. "Here; thank you for helping my sister. You didn't have to, and yet you did."

Fenris took a look at the little purse and threw it back to Carver. "Keep your money," he said without bitterness. "I did it for her sake. And ours."

Carver's blue eyes stared at him for a while as if he was measuring the elf. He nodded. "Much appreciated," he murmured, and turned around the corner, disappearing from Fenris's sight.

Irina was leaning against a wall, looking up. "Did he take it?"

Carver shook his head. "It seems that the witch was right about him."

Irina let out a troubled sigh. "I don't want–"

"I know you don't," Carver interrupted her. "I think only time will tell. In the meantime…" He clenched his fists. "I think it would be better if you remained in Kirkwall. I can't risk bringing you with me… You heard what she said…"

"There's still time–" Irina protested.

"I've made up my mind, Irya," Carver said, holding her hands in his. "I'm taking him with me, and you're staying here."

...


	6. Chapter 6 - Step inside

Carver's eyes shot open. There was nothing there but the same grimy ceiling that bade him good morning every single day. He wasn't sure what time it was – Gamlen's room didn't have windows, but he assumed that the dying fire meant that it was close to the morning anyway.

In the bunk bed below his, Gamlen was snoring lightly. He hadn't woken up because of that. He tried to listen for other noises, but the house was still silent. He stared at the ceiling, looking for an answer, and when the events of the day before came back to him, he frowned.

…

"_Come on, Aveline… I tried to stay away when I was working for Meeran because I knew it might mean trouble for you." Carver's hands were resting on the back of the chair; they were in Aveline's room in the barracks. "I never even resented you for not letting me join the guard. Perhaps a bit, at the beginning, but you were right! It could have been risky for my family. But please, I need you…" A few women came and went, ogling him and giggling in a silly way. Aveline frowned._

"_I would have done it before, Hawke. You know I would. I… owe you a great deal." She polished the greaves of her armor slowly but carefully. That was pure Aveline. Every move she made was conscious; every decision taken, every word said. That had led her to where she was. And Carver had helped her get there. Her green eyes looked at him apologetically. "You can ask anything of me, but you can't… You can't ask me to go on the expedition with you." _

"_I need you there, Aveline Vallen," Carver said, kneeling next to her. "You are the only person I know that will have my back should anything happen down there." His blue eyes looked sincere, and for a moment, Aveline considered his offer. He'd rescued her from the tainted lands of Ferelden – he'd sworn Wesley that he'd protect her, and he had made good on his promise. But things had changed._

"_Carver… They want me to be Captain of the Guard." She stood up and walked away, rubbing her arms. She always felt naked without her armor. "That favor you did to me? The Viscount dictated… I am to start training duties as soon as possible. A headless Guard is as dangerous as a corrupt one."_

_Carver looked at her over his shoulder. He smiled sadly. "I see. It's… Well, I would have liked to have you there. I'm happy for you, Lyne." Aveline gazed at him. Wesley was the only one who used to call her like that. "Can I at least ask you to keep an eye on Irya?" _

_Aveline sighed, relieved. "Thank the Maker you're not taking her with you. Your mother would go out of her mind if you did. Yes." She pressed Carver's hand. "Yes, by all means. I'll be there for your family."_

…

Ever since Flemeth had told them that if both of them went to the expedition one of them would die, Carver had decided not to take Irina with him. He believed in magic. He didn't believe in witches of the Wilds. But there was no reason to dismiss the words of a shapeshifter, someone who had obviously been around and who definitely knew more than they did.

…

_Flemeth looked at the group that had stayed at a distance. "There's a spirit there, one that has suffered an unforeseen transformation. The same goes for the human hosting it." There was a smirk on her lips, and her amber-yellow eyes landed on Merrill, who was looking down. "Let that be a lesson to you, child, for that will be your end if you meddle with spirits without having control over them."_

"_Asha'bellanar…" Merrill stammered. "I just… I will be careful."_

"_Oh, you will," the witch laughed. "As much as you can. But it won't be enough, and your clan will pay the price in blood."_

_Carver saw Merrill cover her face with her hands, and his sister reaching out for the Dalish mage. Flemeth's eyes landed on Irina, and then they looked back at the other group._

"_The elf. The slave. I can feel him in you," she told Irina. _

"_What do you mean?" Carver looked back at Fenris, who was staring at them in the distance. "Irina, did you–?"_

_Flemeth laughed at the sight of the young woman shaking her head. "It isn't a question of carnal pleasure, Master Hawke," she told Carver. "That elf is a slave who thinks he's free, but he has submitted to the will of this young lady here. Tell me, mage," she purred, "how did you manage to enslave the young wolf?"_

"_I didn't… He's not my slave," Irina babbled._

"_I'm willing to believe he doesn't know he is your pet, but he is." The witch sauntered over to the young woman. "I can smell it, you know? The _umbra…_ The dark energy from the lyrium engraved in his flesh. A technique from Tevinter. He's slowly imprinting on you."_

"_Wouldn't that make _her_ the pet, then?" Varric asked, speaking for the first time. _

_Flemeth shook her head. "Submission is part of his nature. He has willingly left his master behind, but he's also willingly accepted a new one."_

"_It could just be love," Varric shrugged. _

"_Varric!" Irina protested, blushing. _

"_Such a foreign emotion," Flemeth pondered. "But there cannot be love if there isn't acceptance of the self. What I can see is that this young mage," she said, pointing to Irina, "uses him to complement what she lacks, and he does the same. He needs a master. Ah, but what do I know?" she laughed. "I'm merely an old woman."_

"_One that talks too much," Carver muttered. _

_Flemeth smirked. "Prove me wrong. Offer him gold for his services. If he takes it, then I'll have been wrong. If he refuses to keep the money…"_

…

Carver sighed. Irina had beaten herself up about it for days, and she had refused to be around Fenris. That was not hard to accomplish, since she mostly kept to the house and was always accompanied by either Leandra or Gamlen, and sometimes even Merrill. His sister had grown fond of the Dalish mage, and Carver couldn't help but feel satisfied about it. He wanted to laugh – what was it about the Hawkes and the elves, anyway? He remembered that Bethany's first infatuation had been with an elf from the Lothering alienage. He still remembered how she had asked their father for a spell that would make her ears more agreeable to elves.

He smiled. Merrill was a nice girl. They spent more time in her house than in his because Gamlen had started grumbling again. He liked his privacy, and Carver tried to respect that. He had told his uncle that once he returned from the Deep Roads, he would compensate him for the inconveniences they had caused. Gamlen had muttered something about having Irina and Leandra around not being that bad, but Carver preferred not to push his luck, so he met the rest of his companions at the Hanged Man. The only problem there, he sighed, was Isabela.

…

"_Why are you doing this?" Carver gripped her by the wrist when he noticed her hand crawling up his thigh. _

"_What? I'm not good enough for you now, am I?" She took off her blue bandanna and tied it around her neck. "Would you prefer it if I dressed up like her? Shall I play mage for you? I may need to borrow your staff…"_

"_Stop it. You're… You're above this, Isabela." Carver walked away. "Why are you giving me such a hard time? Should I remind you that you're the one who didn't want to get serious in the first place?"_

_Isabela stood up and scoffed. "Men… You always think our worlds revolve around you."_

"_Well then, help me understand. You promised you'd come with me to the expedit–"_

"_I never promised I _would._ I said I _might."

"_Isabela…"_

"_Don't press me, Carver," she snapped. "I'm… I'm not meant to be in enclosed spaces."_

"_Or in a relationship?" Carver asked. "Is that what you mean? Everything makes you feel trapped… But you enjoyed what we had. You seemed to, at least." _

"_I can fake it," she replied._

_He crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, you had me fooled. What do I know, right? I'm just a stupid farm boy to you." _

"_That's not true," she said sadly. "We can be friends. Just… Don't ask me about going with you, because I can't. And don't ask me about being with you, because I can't do that either. You care for her. Merrill."_

"_I do," he admitted. "But I probably wouldn't have if you'd agreed to mar–"_

_She pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head. "That's not me, Carver. I'm… I'm sorry." She rested her forehead against his chest and his arms surrounded her one last time. "If you take her with you, she will suffer. Elves were not made to be under ground. I will take care of her, my friend. For you." _

…

Varric would kill him. Little by little, he had failed to recruit those he had thought would accompany him. Aveline, Isabela, Irina, Merrill – they were out of the question now. More than ever, he'd have to secure Anders and Fenris, and he had half a mind to ask Sebastian to come along. After all, the brother had offered him his services. But he suspected that the Grand Cleric wouldn't allow him to leave the Chantry for so long.

It wouldn't be long now. Carver had already collected the money of the expedition. The fifty sovereigns had been given to Varric a week before. But Carver had asked for more time to collect more coin for his family. Leaving them behind should not mean making them go through hardships, not if he could help it. He knew now that it wasn't just the money for them that was holding him back. A strange feeling had taken over him, as if he was about to embark on a journey that would change him forever. He blamed Flemeth for that. _"Were the two of you to step inside that place, one would not return. One would have their life changed forever." _He grunted and rubbed his face. Wicked witch.

He heard someone moving around in the other room, as silently as possible. Irina was up already. He carefully got down from the upper bunk bed and walked to meet his sister.

* * *

Fenris lay on the settee. He'd woken up hours ago, but there was nothing planned for him to do, no reason at all to leave the house that day. He snuggled under the blanket and stared at the dying embers. It wasn't supposed to be so cold. Perhaps it was the house. It was too big for him alone. Walking down the corridors and rooms made him feel the wait. Something had to change. He couldn't just stay there and lick his wounds. He'd have to come out and find Danarius, and leave that life behind once and for all.

_What for?_ A voice inside him always seemed to ask that question. What made him wish to be different? He was free, wasn't he? There were no shackles holding him back, no whipping; nobody preying on his sleep or denying him meals…

He kicked the covers out of his way and stared at the ceiling. "What is it, Fenrrris?" he asked himself out loud, letting his tongue roll out the Rs in a sardonic way. "What is wrrrong with you?" He rested his head on his arm and looked up. Even though the rest of the mansion was still standing strong, it could certainly do with some repairs. "What for?" he asked quietly, pulling the covers over him again. The scent of herbs and flowers that she had left in the blanket had long vanished, but he could still smell it, sense it…

He hadn't seen her for days now, only from afar. She was always accompanied by someone. Not that he needed to find her on her own, but still, it made him feel uncomfortable. As if he was a weird thing, something embarrassing to hang out with.

He fell asleep again, and was awakened by a ray of sunlight right in the eyes. He frowned and turned around, but there was no point in going back to sleep now. He yawned and stretched. It was still the same day. What to do?

He left the house and walked to the passageway to Darktown. Since they had aided the Coterie to get rid of the competition and Varric had managed to negotiate a deal with them, strolling around that area had become safer for the group. He felt relieved. He didn't enjoy fighting for his life every single time he wanted to visit the clinic, though it provided him with the perfect excuse to do so.

The lantern was lit, and so he entered. The clinic was unusually quiet that day. Anders was sitting at the back, reading something thoroughly. Fenris cleared his throat.

"Come in. I'll be with you in a moment," Anders said without looking up.

Fenris looked around. The place had improved a bit. There was an area dedicated to herbs, which got rid of the smell quite effectively. Some crates were neatly organized – potions, bandages, ointments; Anders seemed to have everything he needed to do his job.

"She's not coming today," the mage said. Fenris turned around to look at him. He was still reading, quill in hand, making corrections to a parchment.

"Is that why the clinic's so quiet?" Fenris asked, refusing to acknowledge that he was there for a certain 'she'.

Anders nodded. "She sometimes cooks for them. Nothing fancy, just soup. In those days we're flooded with children." He smiled. "She likes them. She'll be a great mother someday, if she ever decides to settle down."

"Why wouldn't she?" The elf's fingers were tracing the edge of a barrel.

"Are you interested, then?" Anders raised an eyebrow and a smile appeared on his lips. "Should I tell her?"

"No," Fenris replied, rubbing his fingers together.

"No to which question?"

Fenris stared at him. "Are you going on the expedition?"

Anders left the quill and turned to the elf. "Yes, though honestly, I'm not quite convinced. I'm sorry that Carver decided not to take her along. He says she's not ready. And I understand that, I really do, but I was hoping that since there would be others, well… She could get some serious combat training." He stood up and took two tankards from a shelf. He filled them up with ale and offered one to Fenris. "The Roads are not for everybody, that's true. But I really think we could have had a nifty journey if all of us had agreed to go."

Fenris sipped the ale and remained quiet. Anders took it as an invitation to keep talking. "Irina and Merrill will take care of some of the people in my absence. We've yet to decide where, though, since many humans walking around in the alienage would make the elves feel uncomfortable, and Uncle Gamlen wouldn't appreciate the crowds in his hovel either. I was thinking of having them run the clinic, but…"

"Wouldn't that be unnecessarily dangerous?" Fenris asked.

"A tad. Isabela and Aveline will keep an eye on them, and Leandra will be around as well, but what worries me is the fact that we're not leaving women here – we're leaving mages." Anders stared at the contents of his tankard. "I don't think that Carver would like to return only to find that his sister and his lover have been 'asked' to join the Circle."

"Are they…? Carver and Merrill…?"

"Not yet. But I'd never seen him so interested in someone, and she's obviously grateful for his assistance. He makes her laugh. I've seen her smiling whenever he's around. If that's not interest, I don't know what it is."

"You make Irina laugh," Fenris blurted out before burying his face back in his drink.

"That I do, yes. She's sweet and kind. She's not gorgeous, but she's so nice that you can't help but feel that you could fall in love with her."

"I wouldn't know…" Fenris muttered. Anders put down his tankard on the shelf rather violently.

"Oh, come on! Do you think we're blind? The elf that despises mages willingly helps a mage to balance her energy? Pfft. Don't be ridiculous."

"Should I not help her?" Fenris grunted.

"No need to be resentful, but I don't like dealing with hypocrites," Anders snapped. "If you feel something for her, let her know before it's too late. You never know what may happen tomorrow. Well, except that we do. We're leaving tomorrow."

Fenris stared at the mage for a while. "I don't know what to think," he finally said, lowering his eyes. "I'm not sure what I… What she makes me feel."

"Afraid that it's only gratefulness because she saved your life once?" Anders asked. "You made up for that when you saved her back in Sundermount. There. The debt has been repaid. The slate is clean. What holds you back, Fenris?"

"Nothing holds me back," the elf grunted quickly.

"Well then, prove it!" Anders's amber eyes were defiant. Fenris emptied his tankard and stormed out of the clinic.

* * *

"Mahariel and Tamlen… They were such good friends. I envied them." Merrill's hands leafed through a book that she'd brought along, a chronicle of her history with her clan. "Mahariel's heart broke when Tamlen disappeared. He became a ghost of the man he'd been. He died of the sickness shortly after."

"That's terrible." Irina had seen the humanoid figures that had attacked them on their escape from Lothering, but part of her had refused to see that they came from humans, elves, and dwarves. "I can't imagine the reaction of the clan."

"It was like losing an arm," Merrill said wistfully. "You're still working, but the scar will always be there. You'll never forget it." She looked at her companion. "But forgive me; here I am, talking about my people, and you've lost so many back in Ferelden!"

"Many people, yes. But unlike clans, we're not really connected to them. It's our families that matter. My father and my sister died before the Blight. So at least we had time to mourn them in peace. My sister had a baby, a stillborn. That was…" Irina's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry," she chuckled sadly. "I thought that after a couple of years, it would be easy to talk about it." She took a red handkerchief from her purse and wiped her tears.

"That is a beautiful thing," Merrill commented.

"This? Bethany embroidered it," Irina smiled. "Red was her colour. I always thought it was perfect for her. She was fiery; so full of life…"

"Same as Tamlen. I always wished I could be like him. Fearless, you know?"

The two women smiled at each other across the table. Irina was about to ask about Carver when there was a knock on the door.

"That must be your brother," Merrill said gleefully. She dashed to the door and opened it. She closed it immediately after her, leaving the visitor outside.

"What's wrong?" Irina asked, having stood up.

Merrill tiptoed all the way back to her companion. "It's Fenris!" she whispered excitedly, making Irina blush. "I think he's come here for you! Creators, how romantic!"

_"Merrill!"_ Irina's face was red now. "I swear, you have the strangest ideas!"

"What should I do? Should I let him in?"

"Well, you've shut the door in his face," Irina replied. "I think he knows you're in the house. Just a hunch."

"I know! I'll show him in, and then I'll casually mention that I have to buy something, so that you two can be alone!"

"That's not what I want!" Irina pleaded, holding on to Merrill's hand, but the elf had detached herself and was already opening the door.

"Come in, Fenris! Don't mind the… Well, I've seen your house. I shouldn't be ashamed of mine, honestly. Do you know Irina? Why, of course you do, silly me. I'm… Er… Would you like something to drink? We were having some herbal infusion; I could have something concocted for you."

"No, thanks," Fenris replied as he watched the woman at the back of the room, who was distractedly turning the pages of a huge book.

"Sooo… What brings you here? Should I leave you two alone?"

"Merrill…" Irina sighed. The Dalish mage turned to her friend and winked.

"Okay, I'll leave you two alone!"

As soon as the door was closed, Fenris turned to Irina. "I have the feeling that everyone knows something that I do not."

"I don't imagine what that could be," Irina said quietly.

Fenris gazed at her sadly as he took off his dark cloak. "You have been avoiding me," he murmured, causing her to look up.

Irina's heart skipped a beat. She'd never seen him so vulnerable. She felt ashamed by her actions until she remembered why she'd carried them out. She cleared her throat discreetly. "I've been busy, what with the preparations before Carver's departure. And Anders's, and the clinic..."

"Ah. Of course," he said. He watched her leave the book on the shelf, her face turned to the other books that had been sorted out there. She was wearing a grey and brown dress that reminded him of the combination of her eyes and hair. As she raised her hands to pick up another book, the low neckline of her dress revealed a beauty spot on the base of her neck, something small and delicate. Fenris instantly reached out to touch it, but then she turned around.

He lowered his hand, utterly embarrassed. He didn't know what to say. Hadn't he said all he wanted to say already? He felt as if he had. Though perhaps…

"Have I troubled you in any way?" he asked. "Are you still in pain when you do your magic? I thought I was helping…"

"You helped," Irina blurted out. "But I can't keep asking you to do it. I'm slowly getting better. Anders's tonics are helping me. I don't want you to do it anymore." She stared at him and saw the pain in his green eyes. Not disgust, like the first time they'd met. Not confusion, like those first months of talking and walking together from the clinic to the Rose. It felt like sorrow. Was it possible that he was sad? "Don't do this to me, Fenris," she said weakly, as she covered her face with her hands.

Flemeth's words came back to her. He was only looking for a master, and he'd found one that needed him. But he wasn't an instrument. He was a person. She didn't want him to believe that his lyrium was the only thing that was worth something.

"Why didn't you take the money?" she asked. She saw him frown. "The money that Carver offered you when we returned from Sundermount. Why didn't you take it?"

He shrugged. "I didn't want to take it."

"Why not?"

"I… don't know. I didn't feel it was necessary. I was only doing what I had to–"

Irina groaned and walked away. She stood in front of the fire.

"You don't pay Anders for his services, why would you pay me?" he asked.

"Because Anders doesn't do things out of a sense of duty!" Irina exclaimed. "He does them because he wants to do them!"

"And so do I!" Fenris blurted out. "I do things because I want to! I help you because I want to! I spend time with you because I want to! Do you think that I follow you around like a lost puppy? Like a pet?" He stopped talking when he saw her look away. "Is that the way you see me?"

"No, I…"

"Do you think I'm playing the part of the slave here?" he asked. When she remained silent, he snorted. "I see." He stepped back. "If that is what I am to you–"

"That's not what I want you to be!" Irina cried.

"Then what do you want me to be, huh?" Fenris asked, standing right in front of her. His eyes were flashing angrily and his body felt as warm as the fire behind him. "What do you want me to be?" he repeated, this time more quietly, moving even closer to her.

She felt them again – ripples of cold and heat striking her body, crawling up and down her spine, making her skin burn with a sensation that she'd never known before; one that mystified her. Without intending to, she laid her hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat under the thin fabric of his shirt.

"Silly man," she said softly. "You're not wearing your armor. The last time you left the mansion dressed like this, things didn't go well for you."

"I think they went fine enough," he replied, feeling dazed. This was the closest they'd ever been on their own, without anyone trying to kill them. Safe and warm. That was how it was supposed to be.

"I don't want to be your master, Fenris," she explained. "I don't want to be a distraction in the field. You are far kinder to me than I ever thought anyone could be. I don't want you to feel that you _have_ to do anything."

"I know that," he said, stroking her cheek. She felt soft. Her fair skin looked even fairer next to his, and something in that contrast made him want to see the rest of her. "I enjoy being with you. Is that so hard to believe?"

"It is," she confessed. "I'm a mage. You despise mages."

"You're no magister, and you're unlike the other mages we've encountered."

"Only because one is a repentant blood mage and the other is the host of a spirit?"

"That could be it, yes," Fenris smirked. He saw her smile. "Irya…" he said.

"Hmm?"

"I did ask a question, though." He nuzzled her. "What do you want me to be?" he asked softly.

As Irina closed her eyes, feeling his breath on her skin, she heard Merrill shouting outside. "Carver, I wasn't expecting you so early! What a surprise!"

Fenris looked around, seeing that the only way out was also the only way in. "The other room!" Irina whispered as she took the cloak and threw it to him. Fenris dashed into Merrill's chambers and took a turn past the latrine, into a little room where she had placed all sorts of Dalish mementos.

"Carver," Irina greeted him. Her brother walked to her and kissed her on the forehead. He frowned.

"Irya, your cheeks… They're flushed!" He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead, but she moved it away. "Are you feeling well?"

"Perhaps I've been standing too close to the fire," she shrugged. "Did you come to walk me home?"

"I thought we were going to have dinner here?" Carver raised an eyebrow.

"Oh!" Irina looked at Merrill. "I… forgot about that!"

Merrill fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "I did too! I have no food to offer, unless you want rat. There are a few hanging around."

"That's no good. Do you want me to do something about it?" Carver asked as he headed for the other room.

"No, no!" Merrill cried out. "No need! They're… friendly! Make me feel less lonely, to be fair… Poor things… They used to live here; I can't just evict them…"

"Why don't we all go for dinner at the Hanged Man?" Irina suggested. "Aveline will be there tonight, won't she?"

"Yes, yes – the Hanged Man! And I could ask Isabela to teach me that card game!"

"I wouldn't test Isabela's patience for the moment," Carver said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just… Let her be, all right?"

"I made something for Varric and Anders, but I left it home. Could you walk me there?" Irina asked impatiently.

"What about Merrill?" her brother asked.

"Oh, I've got some things to do. I'll meet you at the entrance of the alienage in a while, yes?" Having said that, she shooed the Hawkes out of her home and closed the door behind them. She let out a sigh of relief and waited. Fenris peeked out. "Well?"

"Well what?" Fenris droned.

"Don't be shy. Was it worth something, at least?"

In spite of himself, Fenris's lips curved into the shadow of a smile.

* * *

They were loud and boisterous. Even Aveline, who usually contained herself, was drinking as much as Isabela was, and laughing at Varric's bawdy stories. Anders was sitting at the end of the table, talking to Irina quietly. Fenris was next to Varric, occasionally glancing in their direction. Irina seemed to have a certain glow that night, and he wanted to believe that there was something special between them. Something he'd never had. Something that didn't seem impossible now.

All they had to do was survive the Deep Roads.

As they bade goodnight, Irina presented Anders and Varric with a little purse that she had made and asked them not to open until they had started the journey.

"What did you get the elf, then?" Varric jested.

Irina detached the purse from her cinch and left it in Fenris's hands. "Bring it back to me," she murmured. Their eyes met one last time, and then Carver and his sister were gone.

As soon as he got to the mansion he opened the purse. There was a red handkerchief inside, richly embroidered, filled with her scent. He held it in his hand and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

When Irina woke up the next morning, Carver had left. Leandra's cheeks were still moist after reading the letter that he'd left behind.

…

_Dear Mum and Irya,_

_I'm not much of a writer, you already know that. I don't say my goodbyes very gracefully either. Especially not when I'm not so sure about when we'll be returning. _

_I'm not going to lie. This can be more difficult that we were initially led to believe. It was never about the coin. I made a deal with someone in the merchant's guild and they offered to give me the money to invest in the expedition, which means that everything I've managed to gather is still there for you to use, in case…_

_And that's the thing. I don't want to write the words that have been living in my head for some weeks now. All I wanted was to have more time with you two. I'm glad I can say I had that. _

_The coin's on a hole in the beam that's right on top of my bed. Use it well, Mom, and keep Irina safe. _

_I love you both._

_C._

…

Irina dashed to Carver's bunk bed. It was a good thing that Gamlen was not there that morning. She climbed the steps and fumbled about. She stopped when she found the pouch. Around seventy sovereigns fell from it, their clink foreign and cold.

"He didn't need to leave," Irina told her mother quietly. "We could have petitioned… He didn't have to go!"

Leandra looked at her daughter calmly. "It was his choice, baby. Carver is a man. He needs to do this."

"How can you say that?" Irina whispered. "He's your child! The eldest! He's been fighting for us for so long… Oh, Maker… If something… If something happened to him…"

Leandra held her daughter in her arms and stroked her hair softly. Irina's sobs filled the room.

"I don't know what I'd do without him," Irina cried.

* * *

"This is it, people!" Bartrand's voice seemed to be deeper, right at the entrance to the Deep Roads. "We're just common men now, but we'll be kings when we return!"

"Are we ready?" Carver asked his group. They all nodded. "Let's get going, then."

…

**A/N: **Thanks everyone for the lovely reviews and messages I'm getting, as well as the favs and follows!


	7. Chapter 7 - Blind me

A week passed, then another. Irina prayed for their safe return. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to be down there, with no sunlight or fresh air. Darktown was surely nothing compared to the Deep Roads, and even though she was grateful to her brother for not taking her along, she couldn't help but feel uneasy. Carver was on her mind every morning when she woke up. She thought of Anders as she worked in the clinic, aided by Merrill and Leandra and guarded by Isabela and more and more often Sebastian, who commended her for her good deeds.

But it was at night, before going to sleep, that she would put all other thoughts aside and think of Fenris. As she closed her eyes, she recalled his image. His voice, his eyes, his warmth and strength. Flemeth had called it 'imprinting'. Irina was willing to believe that if he had done that, it hadn't been through his energy, but through his actions. The warrior that she had initially feared and pitied had become the man that she wanted to spend time with.

She didn't want to get ahead of herself. There had been very little between them to expect anything from him when he returned. That didn't stop her from wishing and hoping. His words, his touch – everything made her tremble with excitement and anticipation. She wondered if he would be ready to leave his life with Danarius behind, though. She knew that he was still waiting to be ambushed, and she dreaded the thought of that ever happening.

* * *

"How are you holding up, Blondie?" Varric asked as he cleaned the smaller gears in Bianca. They had stopped for a long rest after finding a quiet spot.

"Much better now that we're done with the Darkspawn in the area," Anders replied, letting his hair down and massaging his scalp. "I'd kill for a bath, though."

"You and me both," Varric muttered.

"Now there's a thought…" Carver teased, sitting down by the small fire Anders had lit.

"Very funny, Hawke," the dwarf grunted.

"What's the matter, Varric? Think you're the only jokester? You can give it but you can't take it?" Carver sniggered.

"Well, aren't you on fire today?" Varric ironized. "Don't think about sex too much. Isabela's not here to satisfy your needs."

"Varric, I'm surprised," Anders intervened. "That's old news – _Merrill_ is the chosen one."

"You and Daisy? How'd I miss that? Well, well, well…" Varric chuckled. "You'll be barking up that tree for a long time, mister. Gonna get a case of blue balls before anything happens."

Carver smiled but said nothing. Fenris watched him and then his eyes turned to Varric, who was still waiting for a stronger reaction. The dwarf dropped the piece of greasy cloth he was holding and stared at Carver. "You dog."

"What," Carver replied casually.

"You did it. You bedded Daisy."

Carver scoffed. "How… How could you possibly know–?"

"Don't you think I know that if it wasn't true you would have teased _me_ about having less sex than Justice? No offense, Blondie. Though I do wonder if touching yourself would count as sex for–"

"And that's an image I don't want to see…" Fenris muttered.

"Where was I? Oh yes, Daisy! Well, what are you waiting for? Do tell! We're just a bunch of lonely guys here, y'know. We could do with some stories."

"Actually, that should be reason enough for him _not_ to say anything," Anders pointed out. "Getting frisky in the Deep Roads gives a whole new meaning to the 'deep' part."

"How classy…" Fenris droned.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not like this around Irina. We don't talk about sex much. I don't want to spoil her for when you two have your first–"

"Say that again?" Carver arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, just shut up, Anders," Fenris groaned.

"Tell us about Daisy!" Varric pressed Carver.

"Will you stop it, ladies?" Bartrand boomed from behind. "Ancestors, I swear! If we'd brought along the women you left behind, at least we'd have some good bodies to ogle, and we'd be able to turn a deaf ear to the inane chatter! Varric!" he called.

"Yes, brother?"

"How long before we can retake the blocked road?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Bartrand," Varric muttered. Being down there for such a long time with his older brother made him feel that his patience was running thin. He didn't have the same love for all things dwarven that Bartrand had brought along when House Tethras had been cast out to the surface. Every day that they spent down there, there was only one thing in Varric's mind – _'Please let us find something truly valuable so that we can get the heck out of this place soon.'_

"I'll show you two the new route after the detour," Anders offered, having recognized the murderous look in Varric's face. After the headaches he'd gotten with the Darkspawn swarming about, the last thing he needed was unnecessary arguments.

Fenris watched them walk away. For a moment he wondered if it was better to follow them, but the close proximity of someone who was now burning through his skull with his eyes told him that it would be more than difficult to escape Carver.

He turned around reluctantly and found his companion's blue eyes staring at him. He sighed.

"I suppose you want an explanation…" he started.

"That would be nice, yes. Though the thing that interests me the most is how long this has been happening."

"_Nothing's_ happened. Anders's got a big mouth, that's all."

"Well then… Do you like her?" Carver asked directly.

* * *

"Well, that's a difficult question, isn't it?" Irina said, grinding some seeds for a concoction. "I'm afraid I don't know as much about Andraste as I would like, but it just seems odd to me that elves are not contemplated by the Chantry."

"But it is true that the Chantry's arms are open to all those faithful and in need, regardless of their race," Sebastian pointed out. "Why, there's even a dwarf who represents our Faith in Orzammar. We received word of it a few months ago."

"I thought dwarves revered their paragons and ancestors, the way elves venerate their multiple creators." She raised her eyes and smiled at the sight of Merrill talking to the plants that Anders had grown in the little sunlit patch.

Sebastian watched Irina work in silence. Her pale hands moved quickly, as if they'd always performed that task. He knew that Anders was instructing her in the ways of magic, and he'd initially been doubtful of the healer's intentions with the younger Hawke, but seeing her move around the clinic made him think that she was being given the right kind of training.

"Aren't you needed at the chantry?" Irina asked him.

"Is my being here bothering you?" he asked back.

"No, I didn't mean… You're always welcome to help or simply be here, Brother," she replied, blushing slightly.

Sebastian smiled. "Your cheeks hide a secret, Miss Hawke. Is there something you would like to confess?"

Irina shook her head and chuckled. "Trust me, Brother. You don't want to know."

Sebastian cocked his head as he put the bandages away. "Those words tend to make the listener even more curious," he said quietly.

"Oh, you are a smart man. You must have noticed that every time you're here, Isabela stays at the back, sketching…"

Sebastian looked behind him. The pirate was sitting on a high stool, holding a board and a piece of parchment on it in one hand and some charcoal in the other. She waved at him cheerfully. It was Sebastian's turn to blush furiously when he understood the possible implications of such action.

"She's… Has she been doing that for long?"

"She started working on a story during a night you spent with her at the docks–"

"I wasn't alone with her," Sebastian said quickly.

"Oh, I know." Irina shut her mouth and ground the seeds and herbs more vigorously.

Sebastian was quick to catch her change. "Miss Hawke… Have _you_ seen the drawings?"

"It's hard not to," Irina confessed. "She's been showing them to everyone."

"Andraste's blessed heart," he murmured, dismayed.

"I wouldn't take a look at them, if I were you," she said sympathetically.

"Trust me, Miss Hawke: that's the sort of thing that I really don't want to see," Sebastian replied.

* * *

"This doesn't feel right," Anders muttered. "I can feel it in my bones."

Fenris nodded. "This is lyrium, but… Not the normal kind." He walked towards one of the veins, blood red and intensely bright. He felt the humming of the lyrium as a dull _thump_ that seemed to beat along with his heart. _Thump thump thump,_ humming louder and louder, filling his ears. So bright, so powerful… He reached out to touch the vein, but someone pulled him back.

"What do you think you're doing?" Anders yelled. "Are you insane? This is not right!"

Fenris shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "I'm… I shouldn't have done that."

"Of course you shouldn't have!" Anders sounded furious. Fenris frowned. Why was the mage moving around so much?

"S-stand still..." he slurred. He felt as if his head was about to explode.

"He's not moving, Fenris," Varric murmured. Fenris turned to look at him, but Varric was nowhere to be seen.

"Maker, look at his eyes…" Carver's voice, coming from somewhere dark, somewhere that he couldn't see.

"Fenris," Anders called. There he was. He wasn't moving anymore, but… But it wasn't Anders either. The image of a tall figure standing in Anders's place. Blue and silver, with a dark core that seemed to be in turmoil. "Can you see me?" The figure took a step towards him, raising his hands to hold him by the head. "Can you?"

"I see the spirit within," Fenris replied. He set himself free from Anders's grip and fell on his knees, spewing bile.

Varric backed off, dragging Carver with him. Anders stood in front of Fenris alone. There was a curious expression in his face, as if there was something that he wanted to ask, but didn't quite dare to.

"Problems, little brother?" Bartrand sounded calmer than usual, and Varric and Carver looked at each other.

"The elf… Fenris… He just got sick. Whatever you do, don't touch the lyrium. Don't even get close to it. And tell Bodahn to keep an eye on Sandal – if he wanders and gets lost in here, I'm not sure we'd find him alive again."

Bartrand stared at his brother and then looked around. It was hard to tell if he'd even listened to what Varric had said. Carver shuddered. "I don't like this. Not one bit."

"You're not alone in the sentiment, Hawke," Varric muttered. He was watching some of the hirelings that had been following them, and there was something odd: it looked as if they were dazed, and he was almost certain that if they put more distance between them and the group, the others would probably lose their way. He turned around and saw Fenris still on his knees. "Blondie… Can he go on any time soon?"

"He needs a moment to rest," Anders's voice replied. "He is crossing planes."

Carver looked at Anders. No, not Anders. That was surely Justice, burning inside his companion. His glow was different from Anders's normal one. For the first time since they had descended into that fiendish pit, he felt the grip of fear. Things were starting to go way over his head, and he took comfort in knowing that his sister was safe.

* * *

"Both of you, get in there and don't make a sound!" Isabela hissed as she pushed Merrill and Irina into Anders's hidden compartment – too small to call it a room, too narrow to stand there for long periods of time. The two women saw Isabela close the door and they stood still, holding each other. The heart of the young Dalish raced, but she was trying to breathe in and out slowly and quietly, and she sensed that her friend was doing the same.

They heard noises outside – surely the others were dragging things out of sight before the Templars arrived at the clinic. Sebastian's voice was soothing Leandra, who was in charge of looking after the sick. Irina was grateful for having him there, even though part of her kept expecting him to take her to the Gallows sooner or later. She wondered what Fenris would say of that. Considering his views on mages, he would agree that the Circle was a better option than letting them run free and amok. She wanted to laugh at how ridiculous she would surely sound if she could voice her thoughts, but the sound of the door opening made her forget about everything else.

A man's voice, giving instructions to others to search the place. Sebastian's quiet manners, explaining that they were not harbouring runaway mages from any Circle. Gamlen's request that they leave the place, for there were sick people there, with illnesses that could be contagious. Irina felt Merrill's forehead resting on her shoulder, their sweaty palms locked together, and she wondered why the elf was so afraid. She'd never seemed to be nervous about being caught before.

Isabela's voice. She was close to where they were, so they could hear her loud and clear. "And we're asking you to leave this place, serah. This clinic is run by a Grey Warden, and you don't want to meddle in their affairs."

"And I'm telling you that I can feel the dark powers in this place." The man's voice was dangerously low. Irina closed her eyes, trying to focus so that she could do what she knew best. They were moving. But who – friend or foe? In the darkness, she felt them: a leader and three followers.

Something had changed within her, though. She could see them all now – not only their spirits, but also their life force, red and alive. She gripped Merrill's hand in horror and Merrill covered her friend's mouth to prevent her from acting on her panic.

The bodies… The Templars were moving towards Isabela, but the bodies of the few sick and the people who were watching them –relatives, friends, other refugees– also started moving. The leader invoked the protection of his own vital energy, but as he was doing so, Irina felt Isabela disappearing. And then, a gurgle, a dying sound. Sebastian's desperate cry –"What have you done?!"– and Isabela's shout –"Gamlen!"– as the bodies of the people of the clinic swarmed the Templars and attacked them until their energies disappeared.

Merrill let out a frightened sob, but Irina found herself unable to move to comfort her. She waited until the door was opened for them, and she saw Gamlen's face, pale and sickened, and her mother behind him.

"Darling!" Leandra cried as she hugged her daughter. She noticed Merrill's hesitation but she beckoned her as well, and Merrill joined them in their embrace.

Over her mother's shoulder, Irina's eyes caught sight of the dead Templars, murdered by the refugees commanded by Isabela. She felt her uncle's hand over her head, patting her awkwardly. She felt as if she was supposed to be grateful, but she wasn't. People had died. People had turned into killers. All for them. She had helped eliminate spirits, hollow men, and abominations, but she had never seen a man killed before. She felt overwhelmed by sadness and impotence. All she had been able to do was watch them kill or watch them die. She wished she hadn't seen that. She wished her magic gone.

She felt someone was watching her. Sebastian. The look in his eyes was more than telling. He didn't approve of what had taken place there. Irina felt her cheeks burning with shame. Sebastian let out a deep sigh and stood by Isabela.

"What are we going to do with the bodies?" he asked matter-of-factly.

Isabela looked around. After a while she said, "Don't you think the plants look a little wilted? They could certainly use some compost..."

* * *

Fenris held the red handkerchief in his hand. _Bring it back to me,_ she had said. But there would be no return. They'd been betrayed and left behind to die. Brother against brother. He'd always believed that humans were hard to trust, and it was even harder to trust mages, but the betrayal of the blood… That had to hit harder than any other.

He looked back at Varric, who looked both enraged and defeated, and he wondered which of the two would be his companion's doom. He'd watched him during the last battles. Something had broken within the dwarf, and there was a certain abandonment in the way he fought. Fenris had had to cover his back in more than one occasion, and Varric hadn't even noticed.

He knew what fighting for survival felt like. It was lonely. Not having something to protect other than your own life made you sloppy, careless. It numbed you, until you no longer saw what stood ahead of you. You just moved forward and cut whatever came your way.

The feel of the handkerchief between his fingers reminded him of Irina's softness and the warmth of her proximity. He knew now that he should have kissed her when he'd had the chance. He'd never kissed other lips without being commanded to do so, and this time he wished she'd told him to kiss her. It would have been much easier.

"We'll find a way out," Carver said, sitting behind him. He quickly hid the handkerchief inside the breastplate, but not fast enough for his companion not to see it. "That was Bethany's once," he said softly. "Irya cherishes it."

"I know," Fenris nodded. "She asked me to return it to her."

"With a little help of the Maker, we shall," Carver said firmly. He parted his lips to say something else, but he decided against it. Fenris was about to ask what he wanted to say, but a low rumble distracted him.

"Did you hear that?" he murmured.

"Get up, quickly," Anders commanded. "I think we have come too close to that area that the demon mentioned…"

"And we'd know what we could find if the elf hadn't gone through it with his sword," Varric barked.

"He did the right thing," Anders sentenced. "You don't want to make deals with demons."

"Like you're one to talk, Blondie," the dwarf grunted.

"Will you two please shut up?" Carver said, rubbing his forehead.

Varric sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm tired and hungry, and sick of eating mushrooms and chewing on the herbal pills your sister made for us so as not to feel hungry."

"We all feel the same way," Carver said, standing up. They felt the rumble again. "I guess this is it, then."

"What do you mean?"

"If the demon said the exit was guarded by something, all we have to do is kill that something. We killed a dragon, for Andraste's sake, and it wasn't even our first dragon!"

"True," Varric smirked. "Down here, we've definitely found some menacing chunks of rock. Damned golems."

"And don't forget the _possessed_ chunks of rock," Fenris added.

"Spirits and rocks! Do you think we'll find something new?" Varric asked.

It took them one look at the monstrous thing standing between them and the exit to know that though they hadn't found something new, they'd certainly found something more dangerous.

* * *

"That can't be true," Leandra said. "Please, serah… Tell me that's not true."

"I am so sorry, Mistress," Bodahn said, shaking his head. "We tried to persuade him to go back for them, but he claimed that they were lost forever, and he told us that if we followed him, we'd come out of the Roads alive. I would have liked to stay and searched for them – even Sandal insisted that we should stay, but…"

"But you were afraid for your son," Leandra whispered. "Oh, how I understand you, serah…"

"That place was scary," Sandal commented, tugging at Leandra's heart. She didn't know what to feel. Everything but hopelessness. She'd already lost a child; she knew the pain. Somehow, she didn't feel like that after hearing about Carver's disappearance. It was only that: he had disappeared. There was always the chance that he would return to them. He would surely find a way to do that. He always did.

"Mistress, if there's anything we can do for you…" Bodahn said gently.

"Thank you, serah, but… There's nothing left for us to do but wait. I'm not sure how I'm going to convey the news to my daughter. I think she's almost lost her faith, and if I tell her this–"

"Tell me what?" Irina asked behind her.

"They are lost," Sandal blurted out innocently.

Irina looked at the dwarf. They would be travelling with the expedition; Carver had introduced her to them when they'd thought she'd be joining them. But if they were there…

"Do you mean... Carver?" she asked, agitated. "Mother?"

"Please, baby… Not now…" Leandra murmured, her eyes darting from side to side. If Irina lost her cool there, in the middle of the market… It could be dangerous for all of them.

"Miss Hawke, you must remain calm…" Bodahn pleaded. "It will do you no good to react now. Let us find a quiet place, so that I can explain–"

"Where are they? Fenris! Anders! Varric? All of them? Just tell me what happened!"

Sandal fumbled in a pouch and took out a small stone. He rushed to her side and offered it to her.

"What… What is this?" Irina asked. As soon as her fingers touched the rune, her body collapsed, unconscious.

"Irya!" Leandra cried out. "What did he do?"

Bodahn looked around. In the distance, he saw two Templars walking towards the area, which was starting to get crowded. "She's only asleep. Come on, we have to get her out of here, as fast as we can."

* * *

Irina opened her eyes. An unfamiliar ceiling greeted her, and then the sight of another bed, as simple as the one she was lying on, right in front of a screen. She rubbed her forehead – how had she gotten there in the first place? And then she remembered. Carver. All of them. Lost.

She sat up and groaned. She'd seen a blinding light and after that, darkness. A rune. The dwarf had given her a rune with a word of power. _Sleep._ She blinked. That was not possible. Dwarves couldn't use magic. Was that dwarf an enchanter?

She heard hushed voices talking behind the screen. "Mother?" she called. Chairs moving. Her mother's face, and behind her, two dwarves.

"Carver?" Irina asked. Her mother crossed the room swiftly and held her daughter in her arms. How long would she be able to protect her if Carver didn't return?

* * *

Fenris left the bag on the floor. He wasn't sure if the load was heavy indeed or if he was slowly getting weaker. He guessed that both answers were accurate. "I don't see a turn to the right," he said. "Are you sure you're reading that map correctly?"

Anders walked up to where the elf was standing. "A bit further on, then. I just know that we're inconveniently close to the Warden outpost. I feel it in my skin."

"Inconvenient for you, perhaps," Fenris pointed out. "Some of us could sure do with some assistance–" He was startled by a bolt shot at the wall behind him. He turned around to see Varric pointing Bianca at him. "What did you do that for?"

"_All_ of us could do with some assistance. Not just 'some' of us. We're in this together."

"Of course we are," Carver said. "But Fenris and Anders had it rough down here, what with the temporary blindness and the awful headaches. And you… Well, you with your brother. I guess I was the lucky one this time."

"That you were, Hawke," Varric said, patting his companion on the arm. They continued walking until one pair of footsteps stopped.

"What's the matter, Blon–?" A familiar screeching made his blood curl.

"Well, we know we're close to the exit for sure," Carver said, dropping his bag and wielding his broadsword. "Darkspawn ahead."

"Not many, though," Anders said, summoning a wisp.

"You two, stay behind. Fenris, at my signal." Carver and Fenris charged ahead against the group. Some of the Genlocks had been trapped by Anders's hex. A few more fell before Varric's bolts. Their blades moved in unison, preventing the Darkspawn from advancing. A bolt of lightning disrupted them, and they saw Anders flinging a fireball at the magic-wielding Darkspawn.

As Carver dealt with the Hurlocks, Fenris ran his sword through the chest of a Genlock, using the body as a shield as he charged against the rest. Soon, the bodies of the monsters littered the floor, and Fenris chased the ones that were crawling away, driving his sword through their necks and finishing them.

"Well," Carver panted. "I hope we won't find another group like that any time soon. Or at least not before we have something to eat. Can't do this on an empty stom–" He heard hollow sniggering behind him and turned around to see a dying Genlock standing there. The beast sank its knife into Carver's side up to the hilt before Varric had time to put a bolt through its head.

Carver fell on his knees and pulled the knife out, casting it far from him. He pressed his side to stop the blood from flowing. Anders ran to his side.

"Stay with me," the mage pleaded as he laid his hands over the wound. "We're so close, Carver; so close…"

"Fenris…" Carver called, feeling Anders's magic pouring into him. Fenris's eyes stared at his companion, unable to understand what had happened. "Promise me…"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Big Boy," Varric grunted. "Blondie's already healing you." He noticed the worried look in Anders's eyes but preferred to ignore it.

"It hurts…" Carver winced.

"Well, of course it does, you big oaf! You had a bloody knife stuck inside!"

"The knife…" Anders whispered. "Fenris! Find the knife!"

Fenris looked around and found it. His fingers jerked when he bent down to pick it up. He had to muster all his courage to grab it by the handle and take it back to Anders. He left it beside the mage, who took a look at it and closed his eyes. Fenris saw him shake his head almost imperceptibly. Anders pointed to his satchel. "Pass me the amber flask," he asked Varric. But when he finally got hold of it, he hesitated.

"What is it?" the dwarf asked.

Anders didn't reply, but Carver saw the look in his face.

"It was corrupted, wasn't it?" he asked. "That's why it burns. I've been stabbed before… This feels nothing like that."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Varric asked, incredulous. "Anders… Is he right?"

Anders looked down. "Yes."

The silence that befell them was broken by Fenris. "You were going to poison him, weren't you?"

Anders looked up at the elf. "I was going to put him to sleep, and then kill him. It's the greatest mercy I could offer to a friend."

"What stopped you?" Carver asked. He didn't sound resentful or genuinely curious. There was only resignation in his voice.

"It's a long shot, but… We could find the Wardens. You could join them, if they let you in."

"Do they recruit people out of pity?" Fenris asked without malice.

"Carver's worth it. I'll vouch for him," Anders replied.

"I wonder how much your word is worth, though." Fenris looked at the young man on his knees. "But we can give it a try. Are you strong enough to stand up?"

"Of course I am," Carver winced, leaning on Varric to get back on his feet.

* * *

"What are you saying, honey?" Leandra's worried face made her daughter feel guiltier than she already did. "You're not serious, are you? Tell me you're not…"

"It's not insane… I saw you at the clinic. You were truly terrified. You could have died there. Everyone could have died there, just to protect us. People actually died!" Irina shouted. "It was unnecessarily dangerous, and I can't let that happen again. Carver's gone, Mother." She hid her face in her hands and cried softly. "He's gone, and he won't be here to protect us for the rest of our lives… And you don't deserve to be locked in this house… You've done too much for me already…"

"Darling…"

"I am serious," Irina said after a while, wiping her tears away with determination. "If the Templars come for me again, I'll go with them. I'll join the Circle."

...

**A/N:** As usual, thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8 - Just a smile

Knight-Captain Cullen checked the list one last time. More and more recruits were disappearing. Some leads placed them at the brothel; others mentioned Darktown. He'd tried to recruit others to help him investigate the matter, but Captain Emeric was busy looking into the disappearance of two mages, and Captain Thrask was doing the same in the alienage. Sometimes he wondered if being their superior was actually worth something. People rarely paid attention to what he said. He'd heard the rumors about him, and they were all true. How he'd survived the other Templars back at Kinloch Hold, when most of them had died at the hands of abominations, or even worse, they'd succumbed to their darkest desires and willingly consorted with those demons. How he'd been dismissed after suffering from a mental breakdown. How the Knight-Commander had made him her second-in-command in such a short time. He didn't care. If they actually asked him about what had happened, he'd speak to them freely. But nobody ever got too close to him.

So when the news about Keran and Wilmod arrived, especially after the disappearance of their captain in Darktown the week before, Cullen decided to make a move, even if he was on his own. No stone would be left unturned, and he would start with the undercity.

* * *

"The temperature seems normal, but are you sure you're feeling fine?" Irina asked, concerned. Merrill was paler than usual, and after the incident at the clinic she appeared to have become fearful.

Merrill wrung the scarf and looked down. "I've done something…"

Irina stared at her. "Mer… Blood magic again?"

The young elf winced as if the words had hurt her. "I did not mean…"

"Then why did you do it?" Irina sounded disappointed, and Merrill wondered if that was the right time to tell her what she'd done. "If Carver were here–"

"But he isn't," Merrill blurted out. "He's not coming back, is he? I can see it in your eyes. I know you know something, but you don't think you should tell me…" Her fingers caressed the edges of a box. There was a certain longing in that action that confused Irina. She knew that Merrill and Carver liked each other too much, and Leandra had even started to think of Merrill as a daughter. Before leaving, Carver had even hinted at the possibility of taking Merrill to live with them at the Amell estate. Irina had asked him if he planned to marry her, and Carver had replied that it depended on Merrill and whatever customs the Dalish had.

"I don't have anything against you," Irina finally said, more to herself than to her friend. "I mean… It's not about you…"

"But there's something you know, am I right?" Merrill's green eyes looked anguished. The shadows under them were more and more frequent.

"We don't know if he's coming back," Irina said. She told her what Bodahn had told them, but she tempered her story with her mother's hope that Carver would still find his way back to them. Even though she tried to sound calm, she saw Merrill's distress grow with every word. The elf looked stunned, and Irina regretted having told her about it in the first place.

"There's something you must know…" Merrill started, but she was interrupted by Sebastian's arrival at the clinic. The brother groaned when he saw the two women standing at the back of the room.

"For the love of the Maker, will there _ever_ be a moment in which I can be pleasantly surprised to see you anywhere _but_ here?" he grumbled as he strode towards them. "One of the merchants told me they saw a Templar in the area. It would make my life significantly easier if you two stayed out of trouble." He moved the crate in front of the secret door and signaled them to enter.

"No," Irina said firmly. "Not me. Hide Merrill if you can, but I won't go through that carnage again."

"Don't be silly," Merrill protested.

Sebastian watched her, a curious look in his eyes. "Are you finally willing to join the Circle?"

"Yes," the mage replied, not shying away from the brother's look.

Sebastian smiled. It was strange to see him like that, Irina thought. He'd smiled at her before, but this time it felt as if he was really looking at her, and not just as a parishioner or a magic disaster waiting to happen. She felt as if his eyes were looking past those things, seeing the woman within.

"You're worth keeping close," he told her after a while. "Now please, hide."

* * *

"This is no time for trials, Anders," Senior Warden Stroud said. "But I will give word to your Commander that you're alive. Whether he wants to seek you out or not is his problem."

"I appreciate it," Anders had muttered, a tinge of shame in voice.

Varric and Fenris were standing near Carver. For some reason, they couldn't think of something to say. It felt as if they were standing beside a dying man, and yet, he wouldn't be dying. Not if he survived the Joining, whatever that was.

"Stop looking so guilty," Carver grunted. "It wasn't your fault."

"This whole venture… Cursed from the very beginning," Varric muttered. "I always knew the Deep Roads would never be any good. And I appreciate your words, but_ I_ found Anders and his maps._ I_ sought you out. Hard not to feel guilty, Hawke."

"Sometimes things happen," Fenris said quietly.

Varric stared at him and then smirked. "Well, that was deep."

"I mean it," Fenris insisted. "Who can say where the road will take you when you start walking? I had been running away from Danarius for years before I met Anso by chance. He smuggled me into Kirkwall and one night I heard someone talking about the Red Iron. You know the rest."

"Do you ever regret it?" Carver asked. "Putting your business with Danarius on hold?"

Fenris pondered for a while. "No. I guess I needed time to think things through. That does not mean that I've forgotten about him. Bringing him down is something I will do, however long it takes me."

"What will happen with my sister, then?" Carver's blue eyes appeared to be slightly feverish, but his voice remained calm.

"I will look after her," Fenris replied, but said no more.

"We all will," Varric said, patting Carver on the arm. "Looks like Blondie's done talking with the Wardens," he pointed out.

Anders approached them. "They are set to go," he said quietly. He was looking around, and his hands were fidgeting with the buckle of his belt. He was surprised to feel Carver's arms around him.

"Take care of her for me," Carver murmured in his ear. Anders patted him and nodded in silence.

They saw him limp away. One of his legs had started to go numb, and in spite of that, he had insisted on carrying his own bag. Varric had suggested that he should take the gold to compensate the Wardens for the detour he was forcing them to take, since according to Anders the Wardens were always in need of resources of all kinds. Carver had asked them to pay the investor back, lest his family got in trouble over his debt. But other than that, money was not something that would be of concern to him, ever again.

"Needless to say," Anders added, once Carver was gone and they were back in the surface, "everything we've gathered will go to his family. Well, everything minus what it takes to hire an assassin."

"You can say that again," Varric smirked. "Though I'm sure we're pretty good at the whole killing business by now, so we could save some money by looking for Bartrand ourselves."

"Why not? We've already got Danarius on our list," Anders joked.

"Danarius is mine," Fenris replied quickly. "When I find him, I'll be the one to carve his heart out of his sick body."

"Rather you than me," Anders murmured. "I've already got my hands full with the Templars…"

Varric stared at both men. He shook his head. "I'm always stuck with nutcases," he sighed.

* * *

"How did we get into this?" Aveline sighed.

"You mean how _you_ got into this, don't you?" Isabela huffed as she turned around the body of a highwayman who had tried to kill them and looked for valuables. "Same way as me, I guess. Stupid promises we make…" She looked up and saw Irina giving her a guilty look. "Sorry, sweetcheeks, but it's true. Keeping an eye on you didn't mean that we had to follow you when you went out looking for danger."

"Mostly because you're not the type who goes on crazy ventures like this," Aveline pointed out.

"I couldn't say no," Irina lamented. "Macha's family was so nice to us when we first arrived in Kirkwall… Knowing that her brother was lost…" She blinked the sudden tears away. They were right; what was she thinking when she'd agreed to find the lost templar recruits? Had her judgment been clouded by her feelings for Carver?

"Well, let's see the positive side of it," Merrill smiled. "_We_ are chasing a Templar for a change!" Leaving the city had had a positive effect on her. Her cheeks looked rosier, and she seemed to have left behind the morose girl that she'd become since Carver had left.

Isabela arched an eyebrow. "That's the spirit, kitten."

"Why do you call her 'kitten'?" Sebastian asked.

"Well, isn't it obvious? She a cute little thing… With little claws that trap little men…"

"Shall we go on?" Irina asked nervously. Sometimes she hated the verbal exchange between her brother's lovers.

"Relax, little Hawke." Isabela was smiling. "If I hadn't learned to leave certain aspects of my past behind, I'd be a bitter old woman."

"I'm sensing that's directed at me," Aveline sneered.

"Oh, I'd never go behind your back, Lady Manhands. If I've got a problem with you, fear not, you'll know about it." Isabela patted the guardswoman on the back and winked.

The sound of struggle nearby caught their attention. Sebastian and Aveline dashed forward and found two Templars, with one having a clear advantage over the other. Sebastian looked at his companion, who nodded and yelled at them.

"Oh shit," Isabela muttered.

"What's the problem?" Irina asked.

"That guy… I know him from the Gallows. He's the Knight-Captain." She looked at both mages with apprehension. "I'm not sure it's wise to show off in front of him, you know? Stay here…"

Their voices mingled. Aveline's questioning of the recruit's mistreatment, the Knight-Captain's explanation, and Sebastian's shout. Irina rushed towards her companions, followed by Merrill. Neither of them expected to see the grotesque figure of an abomination breaking free from the body of the recruit, or the Shades summoned by it.

Merrill shouted something that Irina didn't understand, but it sounded Elvish. The ground seemed to come alive, and the grass seemed to stretch into tendrils that ensnared the Shades. Irina saw the Knight-Captain watching them, before he himself cast some kind of power that weakened the demons, but also threw the mages off balance. Merrill fared well, but Irina fell on her knees. Dazed, she shook her head, and looked up just in time to see the abomination targeting her. Sebastian dashed to her side and stood in front of her, giving her time to stand up and summon her wisp. She took a vial from her cinch and gulped it down, trusting that she'd gotten the right one.

She felt the liquid quickly rushing down her veins, firing her up. _"A'ruinn'abasch,"_ she whispered, letting the word of power fill her up before transferring to the abomination, making it fizzle. The creature shrieked as the spirit power burned it from within. She concentrated on her second spell. _"Math'ruy'carh'har," _she muttered, and raised her hands to hold the crushing prison in which the monster was trapped. Aveline and the Knight-Captain attacked it, whereas Isabela, Sebastian, and Merrill finished the other summoned creatures.

Panting, Cullen turned to them. "Wh-Who are you?"

"I'm the Captain of the Guard, Aveline Vallen, and these are my companions," she answered. "We're looking for one of your recruits, Keran. Family business."

Cullen frowned. "I wasn't aware… You were the one who exposed the corruption in Captain Jeven's office, weren't you? But I heard the Guard is still acephalous."

"It was shorter to say that Ser Aveline was Captain," Sebastian interceded. When Cullen looked at him, he added, "I'm Sebastian Vael, prince of Starkhaven."

The four women stared at him, eyes wide open. "Blimey," Aveline muttered.

"I've heard of you and what happened to your family, _Brother_ Sebastian," Cullen replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "My condolences, though I must admit I thought you were sworn to the Chantry now." He'd hit Sebastian's weak point.

"I was given leave till I solved the situation in Starkhaven. That's my first duty," Sebastian replied, and then said no more.

Cullen watched Irina and Merrill. "A Dalish, far from her clan."

"And in a mission in their name," Merrill lied, without hesitation. She held Cullen's look defiantly. "Do you wish to talk to the Keeper of my clan?"

"It is not my mission to chase after elves… But I wouldn't go around giving out the location of your clan so easily if I were you. Others might be interested in it." Cullen's hazel eyes landed on Irina. "You, however… You're not a Circle mage."

"She's from the Circle of Ferelden," Isabela lied. "She's here on a mission as well."

"Oh really?" Cullen raised his eyebrows. "I used to be stationed at Kinloch Hold. Who was your mentor there?"

"Shit," Isabela muttered. Irina placed a hand on her arm and pressed it gently. She let out a sigh and looked at Cullen.

"I'm no Circle mage, Knight-Captain. I'm sure you can tell."

Cullen stared at her for a long time. "Captain?" he said to Aveline, without taking his eyes away from Irina. "Are you willing to vouch for this apostate's behavior?"

"We are," Sebastian replied in her stead. She nodded.

Cullen lowered his eyes. "Very well. I will overlook your use of magic for the moment. I'm more interested in finding out what is happening with my missing recruits." He told them about the leads that he'd found and how the Blooming Rose seemed to be involved. "The name 'Idunna' appeared recently in my investigation, but every time I go to the brothel to ask after her, she is not there. Perhaps you'll be lucky where I was not," he told Sebastian, who blushed.

"Me? In the brothel?"

"I know. I share the sentiment," Cullen said, shaking his head.

Isabela snorted. "Pfft. Prudes. I'll do it. She's a pretty little thing. Nice breasts. I saw her once. Couldn't afford her." The two men stared at her with a mixture of horror and fascination. She laughed. "I'm just joking. Though she _does_ have nice breasts…"

* * *

They were camping. It was the last night before getting to Kirkwall.

"I still don't understand why we can't walk the last stretch tonight," Fenris grunted. "I didn't know I was traveling with such weaklings."

"Elf, the only way that we could travel at night and see shit on the road would be if we made you mad and you walked in front of us, with your glowing tattoos lighting the way." Varric laughed at his own occurrence.

"Very funny," Fenris scowled, stoking the fire.

"He doesn't only glow when he's mad," Anders said, looking at him through the flames. "He does it for Irya as well."

"Ooh, then it must be some question of the heat underneath…" Varric teased Fenris, who grunted but said nothing. "Come on, Broody. Tell us, what will you do with all the money you've made? Will you sweep her off her feet with one of the jewels?"

"There will be no sweeping involved," Fenris said distractedly. "Actual sweeping. Or any kind. Why are we talking about this?"

"Because now we have to care for her," Anders replied. "And it's our job to make sure that she's safe and happy. If you know her, then you know how she's going to take the news of Carver not coming back."

"That's why we're not that eager to get to Kirkwall faster," Varric muttered.

Fenris looked at both men. They were right. Knowing what her relationship with Carver was like, she'd be sad beyond words. With nobody there to protect her, however… He looked up at Anders. "Is there a chance that she might join the Circle?"

"What are you talking about?" the mage frowned.

"You may have changed her mind when it comes to magic, and I might have helped her out a bit with the pain, but… The only reason she's become more acquainted with magic is to help Carver. She was going to come to this expedition until we returned from Sundermount. If Carver's not there–"

Anders shook his head. "She didn't practice her spells for Carver. In fact, she learned the healing spell for you."

Fenris blinked. "What?" he said dryly.

"She saw me healing you one day in Darktown. That made her want to learn the word." Anders snorted and muttered, "I swear, people sometimes don't know what they have… Should I be so lucky to have someone who cares for me…"

"What? What would you do? Would you abandon your struggle against the Templars?" Fenris asked skeptically.

"No," Anders replied sincerely. "But at least I wouldn't be alone."

Varric watched the two men stare at each other in silence. Those two were more similar than they thought, and he hoped that one day they would put their differences aside. He knew that both were interested in Irina's happiness, and she seemed to be the kind of person who could bring them together. She was a little bland for his taste, but Varric attributed that to Carver's dominant personality. Any younger sibling would surely have been overshadowed by such a strong Hawke.

* * *

"What did she mean, Merrill?" Irina muttered, holding the Dalish by the shoulders and pinning her against a wall. The witch, Tarohne, had set her against the elf by mentioning the presence of another being within Merrill. "You promised you'd stop it! You said there would be no more blood magic–!"

"It's not a demon!" Merrill cried and hid her face in her hands. Irina let go of her.

Isabela looked at both women and then walked closer to Merrill. "Kitten? Is it… a baby?"

The party saw the elf nod, her face still hidden in shame. "I'm sorry…" she sobbed. "I should have said something before… I wanted to…"

Irina's eyes darted over the elf's face. _A baby._ "Is it Carver's?" she asked.

"Of course it is!" Merrill cried, sounding slightly offended. "He was my only… I'd never…!" She saw Irina beam and wrap her arms around her. She let her resistance come down and circled the mage in a tight embrace. "What if he's not coming back, Irina?" Merrill asked. "We'll be so alone!"

"We'll be together," she replied. "You are part of the family, and your baby will be a Hawke. You'll never be alone again, Merrill."

Aveline cleared her throat. "This is all very touching, but…" She pointed to a gleaming sphere hovering nearby. "What are you going to do with the trapped recruit?"

* * *

"My sister already had the money to petition the Viscount for the restoration of our status," Gamlen explained to the three men. "My nephew left her enough to do so, in case…" He looked away and sighed. "He said this might happen." He rested his head on his hands. "Leandra and Irina… They thought that all of you were missing, possibly dead. The dwarf said so."

"What dwarf?" Varric asked, looking at his companions.

"The one with the strange son. He told Leandra about it; that's when Irina made her choice…"

"What choice was that?" Fenris asked.

Gamlen sighed. He told them about the Templars that had died in the clinic and how affected Irina had been after learning the news. "We told her that she wouldn't be a burden to us, but she said that if Carver didn't return, she'd join the Circle. You can imagine how distressed Leandra–" He stopped when Anders and Fenris stood up.

"Where is she now?" Anders asked.

Gamlen looked at them both. "She's at the Gallows."

* * *

"I knew, I _knew_ we should have returned sooner!" Fenris shouted as they ran towards the docks. "But_ no,_ we had to spend the night on the road!"

"It's nobody's fault!" Anders shouted back. "If anything, it's _her_ decision! Her _irrational, useless,_ unbelievably_ stupid_ decision!"

"For once, we agree!" Fenris shouted over his shoulder. Varric had fallen behind, making them stop.

"You go on…" the dwarf panted, "without me… Ancestors… I think I'm gonna die…"

Fenris hesitated, but Anders pushed him forward. "You go. She needs to see _you_ alive." The mage's amber eyes were serious, and without waiting for the elf to reply, he walked back to where Varric was about to pass out.

Fenris took one last look at his companions and dashed to the boats.

* * *

"Thank you for your assistance. Here," Cullen said, giving Isabela a sum of money, "for your trouble." He looked at Irina. "I've heard of your family's good fortune, Lady Amell. It was most… timely." His voice was low but not unfriendly. "I have yet to inform the Knight-Commander of your _presence_ in the city. It speaks well of you that the Order has not had issues with you so far."

"And you won't," Irina replied. "All I wish to do is cause no trouble, and help the refugees in Darktown. If you ever think of me as an inconvenience, you know where to find me."

"Fair enough," Cullen bowed and folded his arms across his chest.

"You will not regret this, Knight-Captain," Sebastian smiled, surrounding Irina's shoulders with his arm.

"Irya…" Aveline muttered, elbowing her companion.

Irina turned to see what she had seen, and there he was; looking exhausted, thinner than she remembered, and awfully helpless.

"Fenris…" she murmured. She ran to him, but he stood there, immobile. She stopped right before him, her eyes wandering about his body. She reached out and touched his arm, seeing the familiar glow surrounding him. She looked at him and smiled. "You're here…"

"Please don't do it," he croaked.

"Do what?" she asked, confused.

"I know what I said about the Circle," he blurted out, "and what I think of those mages who do not abide by the rules. I don't like it. It's dangerous to have mages lurking out there, and I still think that they should be locked up."

"Fenris…" she murmured again.

"But I admit it. I'm a hypocrite. Not all mages should be part of the Circle. Not you." He cupped her face in his hands. "Not you."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, smiling.

He frowned. "But Gamlen said… Then… You're staying with–"

"Yes?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

"With your mother? At the estate in Hightown?" he finished, taking a step back.

In the distance, their companions were watching them. "I told you he wouldn't kiss her," Aveline sniggered. "Pay up."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, elf," Isabela grunted, taking a silver out of her purse and giving it to the guardswoman. Sebastian shook his head, unamused. He watched the scene with interest. It was after a short while that he realized that something was wrong. He strode towards them.

"What's going on?" he asked, resting a hand on Irina's shoulder. She was crying and Fenris was just standing there in front of her, not moving, not reaching out for her.

"I had to convey the news," Fenris muttered. "Carver's not coming back. He's joined the Grey Wardens."

Aveline frowned. "That's not possible. He'd never leave his family. If you're lying–"

"He was backstabbed with a corrupted blade. Joining the Wardens was the best option he had to survive." He looked at Irina helplessly and felt a bitter pang of jealousy. Sebastian was holding her, and the elf envied him. How easy it was for other people to touch, to _sense,_ without having to deal with the pain of the proximity. "If everything goes fine, you'll receive word of it soon."

Irina nodded. "What about Anders and Varric?"

"They're fine. There's a lot we must tell you… Perhaps it would be best if we didn't do it here?"

* * *

The letter arrived two weeks later, in Carver's own handwriting. He wasn't sleeping well, but he was alive, and the news rejoiced his family. In time, Merrill went to live with them in the Hightown manor, but she insisted on not letting Carver know about the baby until it had been born. Leandra was ecstatic to know that her son was alive, that she would be a grandmother, and that her daughter would be able to live in the house where she and Gamlen had grown up.

Gamlen had come to the estate to live with them as well, and the old house in Lowtown had been transformed into a small clinic, where Irina could work with the poor in the area, and Varric could easily keep an eye on her.

After being told of the Templars that were fertilizing his plants, Anders was given a key to the Amell basement, in case he needed to make a quick getaway. Irina had offered him a place to live with them, but the mage had refused.

"Can you imagine what Fenris would do if I agreed to that? He already wants to rip my heart out for hosting a spirit, and if I lived with you…"

"Well, if he's jealous, he should do something about it," Irina replied. They were sitting at the pavilion in the garden. "Instead, he just sits there in that gloomy mansion and refuses to see me. I went there to talk to him, several times," she explained. "I felt there were many things unsaid between us."

"Such as…?" Anders's lips curved in a grin that Irina could not help but find contagious.

"Such as the things that Flemeth said when we were in Sundermount," she told him.

Anders sat back. "He knows about that. Varric told us everything."

"E-everything?" she blushed.

Anders nodded. "Even the dirty little dreams you've been having about the elf…" he whispered.

"Flemeth didn't say anything about that!"

"Hah!" Anders laughed, making her go red in the face.

"I mean…! There are no dreams!" She hit him on the arm. "Oh, you're a terrible man!"

Anders chuckled as Irina laughed. She looked genuinely happy. He knew that she felt something strong for Fenris. He shook his head. If only he was younger… If only Justice hadn't agreed to be hosted… He felt the spirit stir inside, reminding him that he was still there. Irina's presence had helped him so much already, and he knew that she'd always be there for him. Always.

"Mistress?" Bodahn's voice interrupted them. He and his son had come to live with them as well, talking about how Carver had saved Sandal and the debt of gratitude he had with her brother. "Master Fenris is here to talk to you. In private," he said to Anders, almost apologetically.

"No worries," Anders said, standing up. "I'll check on Merrill and then head for the clinic. Tell me, Bodahn: is there a chance I could borrow Sandal for an hour or two?" he asked the dwarf, as they walked away.

Irina remained in the pavilion until she heard his footsteps on the gravel path. She looked at him and saw him walking slowly towards her. She noticed that he was wearing boots, and that his clothes now consisted of a long black coat and something black and leathery underneath.

"It's been a long time," she said gently.

"I brought you this," he said, giving her a small purse. She looked at the contents and smiled.

"Beth's handkerchief. You remembered."

"Carver said it was important to you, and now that he's gone, I think it's best if you have it back, as you wished." His green eyes looked serious and something else, something that she couldn't identify.

"How have you been?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"Fine. I've been… hearing things. About Danarius. More specifically, about the presence of a large group of slavers relatively nearby, somewhere along the Wounded Coast."

"Do you think he's here?" she asked, feeling her heart grow disquiet.

"I can't say. I must go and see if the rumors are true."

"I could–" she started saying, but he shook his head.

"I've already talked to Varric and Isabela about it. Sebastian has also agreed to come, since part of the information came from someone who used to work for the Flint Company. Besides, the baby will be born soon, and I'm sure Merrill needs you here."

"And what about you?" Irina asked boldly. "Don't you need me?"

Fenris lowered his eyes. "No," he said.

Irina clutched the purse in one of her hands and felt the sting of her fingernails on the palm of the other. "I see," she replied.

"I can't bring myself to put you in danger," he said. "I promised Carver I'd look after you."

"You did, didn't you? Well…" she said, smiling nervously, "don't you worry about me. I can protect myself. I have survived so far." She walked down the steps of the pavilion. "Thank you for letting me know that you'll be going away. I appreciate it. At least you didn't disappear again."

He grabbed her by the arm as she walked by his side. Her grey eyes refused to meet his look. "I don't need you, but I _want_ you," he murmured in her ear, making her shiver. "I'd never wanted something, someone, so much in my life."

"Then why do you push me away?" she asked weakly.

"Because I don't know how to deal with people. I've never met someone like you. All my life, as long as I can remember… All I've known is hatred, all I've had was despicable feelings for your kind. And then you came along, with your doubts and fears, with your innocence and kindness, and I saw you. I see you..." He stood in front of her and raised her chin. "Even though people protect you and appreciate you, you're lonely, because they don't know how it feels inside. I see that, and I recognize that in me as well." His lips curved in a half-smile. "I'm… I don't know how to act, what to say. I don't know what I feel, but I know this: I want you." He rested his forehead against hers. "And I want you to be safe."

"Can't _I_ want the same?" she asked, stroking his cheek. "Can't I want _you_ to be safe? Can't I want to be with you?" She blushed as she said the last words. "Not 'be with you', but be with you… Maker, I say the most inconvenient things sometimes…"

Something in her frustration made him smile, surprising her. "When I return… We have much to talk about."

"You're not going anywhere without me," she replied hastily. He raised his eyebrows.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," she said, holding his hand. "You're not alone. I won't let you do this on your own." Having said that, she stood on the tip of her toes and kissed him on the lips. She felt soft and warm, and she smelled of embrium tea. He was so surprised by her action that he didn't kiss her back. All he did was stand there, stunned, until she pressed his hand. "Just promise that we'll wait until the baby's born, and Carver knows about it."

Fenris nodded, and followed her into the house.

...

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews and messages :) As you may have noticed, we're going towards Hadriana. The two words of power that Irina uses are my interpretation of the spells, one of them is for Walking Bomb, and the other for Crushing Prison.

Also, there's a very silly Azalea's Dolls pic of Fenris and Irina here: fav. me / d7fp1sl (minus the spaces)


	9. Chapter 9 - Before I fade

The fort in Tantervale was not grand, but it provided them well. And, Carver thought, after having spent weeks on the road, the idea of going back to a place that could be called 'home' was most comforting. He wondered if that was part of the Divine Plan that the Maker had for him – always wandering about, either alone or with others, but never in a place for long. As he unmounted, he chuckled. He was starting to sound like Sebastian. Perhaps it had been the stay in Starkhaven that had reminded him of his former companion.

He handed the reins to the stable boy and walked into the building. The others were there already. As he entered the common room, he saw them reading old letters and news that had arrived in their absence.

"There's one for you, dear," said Moira, the elderly housekeeper. "Delivered right after you left. I reckon it's old news anyway, because the messenger was caught in the Drakonis rains and it took him long enough to get here."

"Don't remind me," Carver shuddered. "Promise me you'll never try to climb a muddy mountain in Drakonis. Thank you, Moira." He took the missive and kissed the woman on the forehead. He went into the common chambers and took off his armor. All the while, his eyes lingered on the letter. The last one he'd received had brought excellent news, detailing how happy Leandra and Irina were since they'd moved to Hightown.

Carver washed his face and combed his wet hair with his fingers. He sighed and sat down. Irina's handwriting was always so neat, so unlike his. As he read, he remembered his mother teaching his little sister how to read and write, especially since he and Bethany spent so much time with their fath–

He frowned. Had he read that correctly? He looked at the date and read the letter again. He raised his eyebrows and passed his fingers through his hair one more time. He blinked. But how…?

Oh, he _knew _how. He still remembered Merrill's softness; her hands running over his body, the affection in her eyes… That last night, the one before everything had changed, he decided that she was the right woman for him. The memory of her fingers entwined with his, and her voice calling him _'ma vhenan'_… She had giggled when he'd asked her what it meant, and she'd promised she'd tell him when he returned.

But he'd never had the chance to do so. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye.

He found Stroud in the kitchen. The Orlesian warden liked to lend a hand to the cook whenever he was around, knowing the appetite of the others better than anybody else. "I need to talk to you," he urged the Senior Warden.

"What is it? Bad news?"

"No. I don't know? It's…" Carver hesitated. "It seems I have a child. A daughter."

Stroud handed the ladle to the cook and walked to Carver. "Congratulations!" He patted him on the shoulder and opened the door. "Everybody! Carver's got a daughter!"

The cheers of the others overwhelmed him. Suddenly Carver was surrounded by four men and two women who were pinching his cheeks, tousling his hair, and generally hugging the confused warden.

"Oh look at him," one of the women chuckled. "Speechless!"

"I just don't understand…" Carver murmured. "Why… What makes you glad about it?"

"Well, part of the side effects of joining the Wardens is having little to no chances to have offspring, you know?" Stroud explained. "So I guess it's a good thing you got to it before you went into the Deep Roads. Is the wife alright?"

"I… She's not my wife," he muttered. He felt everybody's eyes on him and blushed. "I mean, I wanted to marry her, but the expedition… And she's a Dalish…"

"Oh," Stroud said. He cleared his throat. "Well, I hope her clan will accept the child…"

"She's not going back to them. She's staying with my family. Her family, now." He looked at the letter in his hand. "I was wondering if–"

Stroud sighed. "I know you were," he said gently. "But we're leaving for Amaranthine soon."

"We don't need to go to Cumberland for transport. You know we could take a boat in Kirkwall," Carver suggested impatiently.

"We'll see," Stroud replied.

* * *

Merrill kissed her daughter's forehead as she breast-fed the child. Inan was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen, and Irina couldn't help but feel somewhat proud of her brother.

"No news?" Merrill asked.

Irina shook her head. "Not yet. But he _had_ warned us that this could happen."

"I know," Merrill replied calmly as she stroked the girl's black hair. It was hard to see them apart. The elf was fiercely protective of her child, even though there was no immediate threat to her. Irina smiled and sat down next to her on the garden lawn. The days seemed longer now that the summer had fully set in. "Why aren't you spending time with Fenris?"

"He's busy," Irina replied. "Varric needs him to deal with the Qunari at the docks. It appears that his stay in Seheron was good for him. He understands the culture, and even though diplomacy is not his forte, it's more than Varric knows about it. So he spends a lot of time with him and Aveline."

"Not with Isabela, I trust?" Merrill asked casually. Irina squinted.

"You're not jealous of her, are you? After all, Carver chose you."

"It was a bit of a surprise to know that there had been something between them," the elf admitted. "Then again, maybe to me. I'm not very observant. Except when it comes to you and Fenris, but that's because I can feel the energy between you two… And Anders, but he's got a different kind of… And I'm rambling. What was I saying? Ah, Isabela. I should have known. She's got the most gorgeous legs. And her breasts…" She took the chance to change the child from one breast to the other. "The way she sways her hips…"

"Yes," Irina sighed. "I feel like a little girl next to her." She frowned and closed her eyes for a few seconds. "You can climb down that tree, Isabela!" she shouted.

The pirate slithered down and patted her clothes. "Took you too long to figure it out, dolly," she admonished her. "What if I'd been a thief?"

"But you _are_ a thief," Merrill said.

"A _bad_ thief," Isabela replied.

"You're also a bad thief," Merrill replied. "Didn't you lose that thing you'd stolen…?"

Isabela patted her on the head. "Let's not talk about that anymore, shall we, Kitten? And as for you," she said to Irina, "you'd be very pretty if you decided to show a bit more. You've got an elven physique. Slim, pale, airy. You'd make an excellent elf."

"Do you think that's why Fenris–?" Irina started asking, but Merrill interrupted her.

"Oh no no no! I think he'd like you no matter what you looked like. I just wish he'd _show_ it, you know? I need to see some romance soon." She sounded sad.

"You and me both," Irina sighed.

"Oh, I can imagine the fire within him," Isabela purred. "I'd suggest you go for Anders instead, though. I bet he needs to unload some of that spirit energy… Oh, the sex with him would be amazing. The use of his powers on the body – ice, fire; sensual lightning running over your bare skin…"

"No mage uses their magic in bed," Merrill frowned. "Emotions run rampant, and it can be dangerous for both people."

"_Both?_ You only think of_ two_ people?" Isabela joked.

"I don't see Anders that way," Irina said quickly, wishing to change the topic to one that made her less nervous. "He_ is_ special to me. And I love him as a friend and mentor, but he's like an older brother."

"What about Sebastian?" Isabela said, sprawling on the lawn. "Mmm, those blue eyes… And that neatly combed hair, desperately asking for some fingertips running through it... That broad back, craving some fingernail action. Talk about forbidden acts… He'd be more sinful than blood magic. Speaking of which…" She turned and looked at Merrill. "I never asked. What the heck did you use blood magic for?"

The elf covered her breasts and rested her daughter against her shoulder, patting her on the back lightly. The child was almost asleep at that point. "There was something I wanted to fix," she said slowly. "Something that I wanted to bring back. And someone, perhaps." She told Isabela the story of the corrupted mirror and the ones lost to the clan. "I left them because I wanted to save them."

"But Flemeth told you that your clan would pay in blood if you did," Irina said softly. "We were still with your clan when that happened."

"Asha'bellanar made me fear what would happen, yes. But I still believed… There's someone in the alienage that could arrange the delivery of the remains of that mirror to my old hovel. I needed to come to Kirkwall. I wanted to give it a try. But then Carver dropped by, more and more often," she said gently, a smile forming on her lips. "Bringing little things, helping me repair holes in the roof, taking me along for some jobs when I asked him to… He cared for me and listened to me more than my clan had even done. And I don't know when it happened, but I fell in love with him." She chuckled. "I must have looked like a fool, babbling whenever he was near, saying the most inane things… Talking about cats for Anders and Qunari and butterflies… I just wanted to be with him, and the silences were sometimes too hard to bear." She cradled her daughter in her arms and gazed at her lovingly. "When I decided to give myself to him, I didn't really think that such a miracle would happen. She saved me. If I'd thought that he was lost forever, I might have gone along with my original plan. But I knew that something had changed within me. I just needed time to confirm it." She kissed her daughter's cheek; the baby was already completely asleep.

Isabela smiled. "You're a lucky woman, Kitten. Finding friends saved you in the end."

"And it might save you too, one day," Merrill said distractedly. She missed the look on the pirate's eyes, but if she'd seen it, she would have realized that her comment had touched Isabela more than she would ever admit.

* * *

Fenris clenched his fists as his eyes stared at a fixed point of the table, looking but not really seeing. "Are you sure it's _her?"_ he muttered.

"Well, I don't know if it's the woman you're looking for," Anso replied. "But that's what Irwin and Talen said. They're the lyrium traders, you know. The fellows that talked to them said that their mistress only required a specific kind of lyrium – not refined, but–"

"The ore chunk," Fenris spat. "That means she will be using blood…" He saw Anso shudder. "Anything else?"

"There have been rumors of slavers, but Tethras must have told you."

"Yes. They were sighted at the Coast – northeast part. But they may have had trouble with some Qunari scouts. We found the bodies, but that's all we have."

"You could have caught up with them if you'd chased them when I first gave you the lead. Why did you wait so long?" Anso asked.

Fenris looked at his hand. "I made a promise."

"Paragon reborn! You've got a tender heart underneath those lyrium marks after all," Anso murmured, amused.

Fenris grunted. "For no one."

"Well, you must have promised that to _someone_… It's not the pirate –shame on you– and it's not the Dalish, so that leaves us with one other girl…" Anso teased him. He stopped, however, when he noticed the elf's scowl. He cleared his throat. "Anyway… Yes, they were asking after a fugitive slave. So that's where you come in."

"What's your best guess?" Fenris asked, looking at the map pinned to Anso's wall.

The dwarf pondered for a while and pointed to a place far from the coast and the city. "The Holding Caves. That place has got a reputation and…" His finger traced a route all the way up to Tevinter. "It's the only road that's still standing thanks to the Imperium."

"That's where I'll be going, then," Fenris muttered.

* * *

"You promised you'd take me with you," Irina told him. He was standing in front of the fire in her library, avoiding her look.

"It might be more dangerous than I can anticipate," he replied, wishing she'd stop asking him about it.

"Why? What is there? _Who_ is there? It's not Danarius; that much I can gather. I know we can anticipate slavers, but they can rarely afford mages." She noticed him looking at her over his shoulder. "Isabela told me so, and Carver once said that even if the slavers had mages, it was only one. There are two of us – Anders and I can go with you; we can finish this now, Fenris." She stood next to him, her gray eyes searching for an answer in his face. "So… Who is it?"

Fenris let out a sigh. "It's not Danarius. It's his right hand, Hadriana. There isn't a woman that I hate more in this life. She's also a magister, and every bit as cruel as Danarius. She's also very powerful." He looked at Irina, who was listening to him attentively. "In Tevinter, the number of slaves assigned to a magister is used to show how much influence you have, but it also depends on the kind of slave they are given. Or the sort of slave they can get their hands on."

Irina noticed that his expression had hardened. The last thing she wanted to do was upset him. But the way he'd said that last phrase, together with how little affection he usually showed, led her to ask the inevitable question. "What kind of slave were you to her, Fenris?"

"Why are you asking?" His voice sounded oddly strained and low.

"You know why," she replied calmly, but her words were met by silence. She sighed and walked to the armchair. She was no fool. His silence actually spoke more than anything he could have said. "Whatever happened… Whatever you did, it wasn't your fault…"

"Of course it wasn't my fault!" Fenris barked. "Who do you think I am? Do you think I would have let her come near me if I'd been given the chance to say 'no'? You don't understand what it is, to be powerless…" He looked at his hands. "To know that you have all that strength within you, and if you use it, if you _dare_ use it, you could lose your life…" He passed his fingers through his hair. "That _bitch,"_ he spat, "used me in all the ways she could think of, but that wasn't enough. She pushed me to the limit; starving me for days, not letting me sleep…"

"Please stop," Irina asked.

"You wanted to know," he snarled as he grabbed her from the arm and dragged her away from the armchair. "This is how it feels to be controlled by blood magic. You're just a doll, a puppet for their entertainment. You don't own anything when you're a slave, but when you're a slave to a filthy mage, you don't even own your life or your body!" He let go of her and she fell to the floor, her face veiled by her loose hair. Her eyes looked up at him with sadness and he felt ashamed. "You are _not_ coming with me, and that's final," he muttered, and he stormed out of the room.

* * *

Varric's eyes were set on the flames of the campfire, but Fenris could tell when he was being watched. The dwarf had remained suspiciously quiet since the beginning of their journey, and that night he went on with his odd behavior. Isabela was showing Fenris how to hide some cards up his sleeve when they noticed that Sebastian was observing something with interest.

"What is it, Choir Boy?" Varric called out, amused.

"Varric! Show some respect. The man's a prince," Isabela purred.

"So am I," Varric grinned. "A Merchant Prince."

"I only said I was a prince to help Irina out," Sebastian rolled his eyes. "I'm as close to being the Prince of Starkhaven as Tethras is of being a Paragon of Virtue. Here they are now," he said, walking to meet the newcomers.

"Who's 'they'?" Fenris stood up and grabbed his sword.

"Relax, pretty elf," Isabela said, leaning on Varric's shoulder. "It's just friends."

Fenris frowned and walked to the edge of the campsite. He didn't need to see her to know that she was hiding beneath that cloak. Sebastian offered to carry her things for the rest of the way. Anders and Aveline followed them, and so did a shaggy hound.

"What is _she_ doing here?" he asked Varric. He could barely contain his fury, and the dwarf picked that up quickly.

"_I_ asked them to come," he said dismissively. "I didn't think you'd mind that much."

"You didn't _think–?_ You clearly didn't think!" Fenris strode towards the young mage. "Are you defying me? What nonsense is this? I think I was very clear when I said–"

"I didn't come_ with_ you," she snapped.

"What?"

"You said _'You are not coming with me', _and I didn't. I came here with Anders, Aveline, and Hairbag, not with–"

"Ancestors! _'Hairbag'?_ Who named the dog?" Varric groaned.

"Who do you think?" Aveline scoffed, pointing to Anders overtly.

"I'm not a dog person," the mage stated. "You knew that. And I appreciate the gesture, Varric, but I think he'll be better in the barracks than in Darktown."

"You need it, Anders. If there's one thing we learned in the past year is that things can get dangerous down there," Isabela said, calling the dog. The hound rolled on his back and offered his belly for her to scratch. "Good boy… Oh, you're definitely a male…"

"Oh yeees, he's _obviously_ a guard dog," Anders said, rolling his eyes. "Have you had dinner already? We hunted a bunny rabbit and I was looking forward to–"

"Excuse me!" Fenris shouted. "Would you mind shutting up for a while?"

"Why? Do you want us to hear what you two have to say to each other?" Varric asked. "Heh, what do you know, fellows? Dinner and show."

"No! I…" Fenris grunted and took Irina by the arm, far away from the group. "You deliberately disobeyed me," he muttered, unable to contain his anger.

"I didn't know you were my master," she replied, touching a nerve.

"How can you say those things so freely?" he asked.

"I can say whatever I want to say, and so can you. You are_ not_ a slave. That woman in the Holding Caves is _not_ your master. You are a free man, you… You…" She poked him on the chest. "Ugh, you make me so angry! I'd kill you if I didn't–!"

"If you didn't what?" He'd already forgotten how vulnerable she looked in the moonlight; her pale skin glowing like a beacon that kept beckoning him, asking him to touch her, to feel her… "We've already talked about this," he sighed. "If something were to happen to you…"

"_Nothing_ will happen to me," she said. "And if it does, I know you'll be there to help me. I know you won't leave me."

"How can you trust me so much?" Fenris asked.

"You've never let me down," she answered. "Why wouldn't I?"

Isabela and Aveline were looking at them in the distance. "Feel like betting again, Manhands?" the pirate asked, crouching behind some bushes. "I think he'll do it this time, eh?"

"Do what?" Anders asked, crawling behind them.

"Kiss her," Sebastian grunted. "The ladies seem to have an obsession with the apparent romance between Milady Amell and the elf."

"Shame on you, girls. The Maker frowns upon your gossiping." Anders peered. "Hmm… He's glowing a bit. That means he's either angry or…"

"I'm thinking that wolf is hungry, if you know what I mean," Varric chuckled.

"Yeah, I got that. Which of you says he's going to kiss her?" Anders asked.

"That would be me," Isabela beamed.

"I think you're about to win a silver from our friend the Captain," he chuckled.

"They're watching us again, aren't they?" Irina asked Fenris, who didn't look up.

"When aren't they?" he muttered. "What do they want this time?"

"They're waiting to see if you'll kiss me," Irina replied calmly. "Isabela always bets you will, Aveline always thinks you won't."

"And what do _you_ think?" Fenris asked, arching an eyebrow.

She considered her reply for a while. "I think you won't," she said gently. "And it's alright. I understand. Your mind is focused on other matters. I am a patient person, Fenris. What will a few more months do to me? Take all the time–"

"You're a patient _woman," _he corrected her. She raised her eyes and saw his, looking at her almost kindly. She lowered her eyes and coughed nervously, making him smile a little. Oh, he was happy to see her after all. "What. Didn't you think I noticed that you're a woman? Just because I don't say anything…" Even in that pale light, he could see that she was blushing. "You don't think I'll kiss you. And you're right. I won't." He enjoyed the sight of her eyes looking up at him, sometimes with excitement, some other times with surprise. This time they looked a little disappointed. "Not unless you want me to."

"What are you saying?" she giggled nervously. There it was again, the heat that she felt every time he was near; that shivery sensation of something needed, something wanted.

"Command me to kiss you, and I shall," he murmured in her ear. "Mind you," he said roguishly, "I'll only do it if you're assertive enough."

Irina felt as if suddenly her body didn't belong to her anymore. She'd only kissed him once because she'd been waiting for him to take a step in her direction, but he'd never done it. She wanted him to kiss her because he wanted to do so, not because she asked for it. _Don't do it, _said a voice inside her head. _Don't play the game. Leave him wanting, let him–_

"Kiss me, Fenris." Her voice was low and yet so clear.

"Your wish is my command," he muttered, and his mouth found hers. He'd planned to leave a gentle kiss on her lips, but the soft sigh that escaped her when they parted made him want more. He was about to kiss her again when he heard the cheering of Isabela and the groaning of Aveline behind the bushes. He cleared his throat and stepped back. "We should go back to the others," he said, as he offered her his hand.

* * *

"One…" Anders counted, keeping his eyes on the Horror that had started to materialize on the other end of the room. Varric and Sebastian had spread out and Isabela had been knocked out. Fenris had quickly dragged her to where Aveline was and then ran towards the mages, standing in front of them.

"Two…" Irina saw the profile of her mentor, almost fading in the light that was bursting from within. She looked ahead and there it was, an abomination similar to the one they'd found in Sundermount, chilling the air around them.

"Now!" Anders muttered a curse and trapped the creature's limbs with a hex. Varric shot a bursting bolt through its head, but it seemed to have no effect. Irina raised her hands and saw Fenris's energy glowing in resonance with hers. She closed her eyes. _Math'ruy… _She hadn't thought it would be so hard to concentrate with him there. _Math'ruy… _It was hard but not impossible, and she felt stronger and more powerful._"Math'ruy'carh'har,"_she murmured, trapping the demon in a spirit prison.

"Well done," Anders said, but it didn't sound like Anders. Irina looked at him. His glow had taken over him, and the way he was fighting now… It was as if there was no tomorrow for him. Irina closed her eyes, letting the word of power fill her mind. _Math'ruy'carh'har, Math'ruy'carh'har, Math'ruy'carh'har. _She saw the prison become corporeal and she knew that she could let go._"__T'alvhen'ote,"_ she muttered, her eyes focused on the creature, watching its legs turn into brittle bone.

Anders shouted something that she didn't understand, something that sounded arcane and ancient, but that it seemed to accelerate the effect of Irina's spell. Fenris looked at Aveline over his shoulder and when he saw her nod, he dashed forward and jumped, burying his sword deep in the core of the monster until it was no more.

"Anders!" Irina shouted, causing the mage to look back at her. There was a last flash of blue in his look before his amber eyes went back to normal. She maintained her gaze on him until he smiled the way he always did.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Same old me, I promise," he murmured. He knelt down beside Isabela and took a flask from his cinch. The pirate wrinkled her nose.

"That smells like shit, Anders," she complained as she sat up. "My head…" She touched the back of her head, which was covered in blood. "Oh, the fuckers ruined my bandana…"

"Don't worry, they already paid for it," Varric chuckled.

"Perhaps you should consider wearing a helmet next time," Aveline observed, laughing at the thought of the scantily-clad woman wearing a great helm.

"Are you doing fine?" Fenris asked Irina. She smiled and nodded. She was healing one of the legs of the dog, and Fenris noticed that she didn't need extra energy to do so. Somehow, that made him feel better. "We should get going, then. This is the last stretch."

"I think I should keep an eye on Isabela and the hound," Aveline told him. "We can wait for you at the entry arch and keep guard in case more mercenaries come, but I really don't think she should risk going in there with you."

"How touching… You're looking after me," Isabela teased.

"I wouldn't have to if you were more careful," the Captain barked. "Neither you nor the dog follow instructions. It's a miracle you're both still alive." The hound lowered his ears and whimpered.

"I know, my friend. The lady is scary. We'll do what she says this time, but only because I'm seeing two of you, and that's never a good sign." Having said that, she emptied the meagre contents of her stomach on the floor.

"I'd better stay with them," Varric said. "Sorry. I really can't leave them on their own."

"It's alright," Fenris said. "I was going to come alone, anyway. A four-person group is always better than one person on their own." Through the corner of the eye, he saw Irina smile at his words. That was all it took to make him fear again: if Hadriana discovered how much she meant to him, would she use that against him?

As they walked down the final section, Sebastian commented, "That is one interesting power you have there, Ser Warden."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Anders muttered, looking for hidden hexes along the way.

"Do you also have lyrium tattoos, like Fenris does? You know, the glow…" he explained, as the mage turned to him.

"Something like that, yes," Anders said curtly.

"But wouldn't that make you a Tranquil?" Sebastian insisted.

"It's not that," Irina interceded, fearing that Justice would come up any time soon. "It's something similar. It… augments his power the way Fenris's marks– Wait!" She grabbed Fenris by the arm and pulled him towards her.

"What is it?" he asked, feeling her body close to his. He saw her close her eyes and mutter something. "Can you see her?"

Trembling, she looked at him. "I can see them dying," she whispered.

"Everyone, get ready," Fenris commanded as he pressed forward, closely followed by Sebastian. Anders and Irina conjured some glyphs as they went, protecting the two men as they entered the final hall.

Only Fenris was ready for the scenario they found. A dozen elves carving their own skin with knives, and a single thread of blood that united them under the staff of a woman, who was now smiling at her expected guests.

"My sweet Fenris," Hadriana laughed. "I knew you'd come for me."

"What have you done?" he screamed. "Stop that now! You're killing them!"

"Surely you know you're worth much more than they are, my sweet. These are the last ones left," she said casually, "but even if they're worthless, every drop of their blood is precious if it means that I'll be able to take you with me."

"This woman has strayed far from the Light," Sebastian murmured. "For too long now. She smells like the Void itself."

"Indeed she does, Brother," Anders said. Irina looked at him. He was glowing again. She tried to keep to the shadows, but Hadriana spotted her.

"What do you have there, Fenris? Oh, look at her! Such a cute little mage… What is your name, darling?"

"Stay away from her!" Fenris snarled and dashed towards the magister, who raised her hand and muttered something in Tevene. The word, however, did not stop the elf, and she only saved her life by moving out of the way almost too late.

"What…?" she panted as she cast a protective shield. "It can't be… You removed it!" she shrieked. "How did you remove the _umbra_?!"

"I just happened to find someone who needed it," Fenris smirked as he slunk towards Hadriana. He was enjoying the look of sheer terror in her face. The puppet strings had been cut. If she wanted to control the four of them, she'd have to resort to more blood magic.

And then it hit him. His dark energy, the _umbra,_ had been transferred to Irina. When Hadriana had spoken the word of power…

He had to fight the urge to look back, to see if Irina had been dealt the blow meant for him. Part of him thought that if she'd been hurt, he would have heard something. A cry, a shout…

"Irina!" Anders's desperate voice, fleshing out the fear that he'd felt. He turned around and saw her falling on her knees, a thin thread of blood coming out of her mouth. But it was her eyes –confounded, in pain– that made his blood boil. Hadriana was laughing behind the protection of her magic and he turned to her, screaming with rage.

"Oh my sweetness! You've been a naughty boy, leaving your energy in that little girl… But you're mine, Fenris. Remember all the good times we spent together?" Hadriana's blue eyes stared into Fenris's. "All those things I let you do to me…"

"The things you _made_ me do!" Fenris shouted. "You disgust me! Filthy blood mage!"

"That's enough, Fenris," Hadriana hissed, lowering her defences just enough to raise her hands to bid the forbidden arts. The slaves slashed their own throats in a frenzy of blood and madness and their bodies slumped to the floor, in front of the few slaves that were still caged.

Enveloped in a red cloud, Sebastian screamed. Fenris pushed him out of the way, feeling the tug of the summoning himself. Hadriana's laughter still rang in his ears, echoing the times that she'd forced herself upon him. But those times did not exist anymore. He was a slave no longer. Never again.

He felt the pain and the fire building up inside, spreading like a disease. The torment would always be there. It would always be a part of him. But he would master it. He saw the bodies of the dead, animated by the power of the blood, lunging themselves against his companions. Sebastian's arrows kept them at bay, and Anders…

Fenris felt a familiar glow shining behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw her, alive and moving, channelling the spirit energy that she'd absorbed from him.

And fading away.

Fenris frowned. That wasn't supposed to happen. And yet, it had.

She'd turned into a lyrium ghost.

He'd wanted to warn Anders, but a look at the mage told him that Anders was gone. There was only Justice there, burning like a sun. Fenris turned to Hadriana, whose eyes darted from one companion to the other until they landed on the spirit of the Fade.

"I will send you back to the abyss where you belong, demon!" Anders boomed, raising his staff and purging the blood from the hall. Hadriana retreated until her back hit the wall behind her and Fenris charged against her.

"Wait! Spare me!" she begged. "I have information–!" A silvery spiral slithered around her neck, choking her.

"Fenris!" Irina screamed behind him. "I cannot hold her much longer! Do it now!"

"I can't see you! You've faded away!" he cried.

"You're the one who's fading away, Fenris!" Sebastian shouted.

Fenris looked at him hands. Ghostly versions of his limbs seemed to have replaced the flesh ones, not just the hand, and he remembered… The only way to avoid blood magic was to leave the body behind. And there it was, standing on its own, immobile. The broken puppet.

He looked at Hadriana in the eye. How many nights had she tortured him? How long had he waited for his revenge? And how many slaves had died that day? Fenris glanced at the ones that had survived, their faces hidden in horror. He reached out and in a swift movement, he thrust his fist into her chest, holding her heart in his hand as if it was a piece of fruit.

One that he crushed until it was no more.

"Come back to me," he heard Irina say as she wrapped her arms around his body. As he bolted towards it, he saw Anders hit his staff on the floor. Warm and tender, her arms were still around him. He felt his chest to see if it was the real thing, and was pleasantly surprised to discover it was. He turned around and saw Irina gazing at him, a smile on her now blood-red lips.

He sought out her lips with an urgency that surprised both of them; blood mingled with desire, and his kisses became more intense, as if each of them would claim her. She was his. She would always be.

"I thought I'd lost you," he murmured. "That you'd somehow disappeared and that I'd never be able to tell you what I feel for you…"

A creaking sound behind them brought him back to reality. He turned around to see Sebastian opening the door of the cage where five elves were crouching in fear. "Oh, I didn't realize I was interrupting you," he said bitterly. "I will not harm you," he spoke to the elves. "Come out. The danger has passed, I promise."

* * *

"I think it's the first time I've seen you smile this long," Varric commented as they entered the city.

"I'm relieved," Fenris replied. "I know that killing that bitch was a blow to Danarius, and I'm one step closer to bringing him down."

"And here I was, thinking that it was our little Irina that made you feel that way," Varric shook his head sadly.

"She certainly helped," Fenris murmured, his eyes fixed on the back of the mage walking ahead of him. He seemed to remember something. "You've done a good job with her, Anders."

"Why, thank you," the mage replied behind him. "I would have never expected to hear that from you."

"Perhaps now you can stop training her and focus on learning how not to lose control?" the elf said sarcastically.

"Perhaps I will, and next time you won't live to tell the tale," Anders quipped.

"Sometimes I think they enjoy it," Sebastian murmured dismayed, making Varric laugh.

* * *

Irina was the first one to enter the mansion. Fenris was carrying Isabela, who was still not doing well, and Anders had insisted on treating her as soon as possible. Since the clinic was connected to the Amell Estate, they decided that it would be best if she stayed there for a few days.

"Bodahn?" she called out. The main hall was deserted. "Sandal?" Perhaps they were in the library. "Bodahn, we need a little–" She stopped, her hand on the door handle.

"Hello, Sister," Carver smiled, holding the baby in his arms.

...

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Almost chapter 10 - we're halfway there! As you may have noticed, I changed Hadriana's role a bit, so Fenris turned into _her_ sex pet/slave.


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